Deputy Wildlifers
by Mickis
Summary: When spending the summer at the farmhouse, the boys drive Splinter up the walls. So April suggest the turtles go hiking together. But who ever got the twisted impression nature would be relaxing? 3rd place for Best Comedy in the 2005 TMNT Fanfiction Comp.
1. I had hoped nature would do them good

**Disclaimer: **Whaddaya know!? Still don't own the turtles and their little team. But can't keep a girl from borrowing them once in a while, can it?

**A/N:** _The title sound familiar?_ _On the request of my dear readers I started working on a sequel to 'Deputy Housekeepers'. I don't know if you've read it? Even if you haven't - it doesn't matter! Because this story is what I would call an unofficial sequel. It stands in its own, but at the same time holds a great resemblance to its ancestor, in the way that their style and type of humor is very much alike. But like I said, this is a story in its own that has nothing to do with the guys' earlier house chores - so you're safe to read it even without the prequel in your luggage. Okay, now that I've made that point clear - let's get this show on the road!_

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**DEPUTY WILDLIFERS**

by

Mickis

**Genre:** General/Humor

**Language: **English

**Rating: **PG13 (in case Raph might get mad and start cursing)

**Summary: **_When spending the summer at April's farmhouse, the boys drive Splinter up the walls. So April suggest the turtles go hiking together. But who on earth ever got the twisted impression nature would be relaxing?_

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**Chapter 1 - "I had hoped nature would do them good."**

April drove up in front of the farmhouse and turned off the engine. She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes, enjoying the peaceful silence only nature could provide. She loved New York City more than anything, but spending the summer upstate was something she felt she deserved after one year of hard work. An alarming thought soon interrupted her clean mind and brought her back to a reality where the ice cream melted in the back of the car. She quickly undid her seat belt and stepped out of the mini-van she drove these days. She had bought it so her mutated friends would all fit inside.

_When did it go so far I started choosing my cars after their needs?_ she mused to herself as she opened up the back of the van.

She reached inside for the two bags she had purchased in the local grocery store. After closing the backdoor with her chin, April stepped up on the porch, holding the stuffed paper bags to her chest. Normally she didn't have to buy this much food at once, but when having four teenage turtles and an elderly rat living under her roof, the fridge tended to get empty a little more often.

The second she managed to get the front door open, the peaceful country silence she had treasured only a moment ago quickly vanished.

"Would ya stop it! We're not watchin' 'World War Veterans!'" Raphael's voice hollered from inside the living room.

"Oh, like 'Monster Truck's are any better?" Leo's voice came to defence.

"Ye wouldn't know a good show iffit came up and bit'cha in the ass!"

"It doesn't matter, 'cause I had the TV - so if you don't wanna watch my show you might as well leave!"

"Are ya threatenin' me?!"

April sighed and walked into the kitchen, deciding to just ignore the war that was about to break out in her living room. As long as they weren't throwing stuff at each other, like two days earlier when Donatello ended up fixing the video remote, she didn't have to worry. When arriving in the kitchen she noticed Splinter sitting at the table by himself with a cup of tea. He stared down his cup as his facial expression revealed the visit of another migraine.

"How long have they been arguing?" April asked, causing the old rat to look up from the table, not looking the least bit surprised by her presence, what with being a ninja master and all, that wasn't very shocking to her.

"Ever since you left," he answered, stirring with his spoon in the cup.

"Well," April said, putting down the bags on the counter and taking a look outside the kitchen window. "It's such a beautiful day, why don't you tell them to go outside?"

"If only I still had the power to force them in such matters," Splinter said with a sigh, his ears rising on top of his furry head as Raphael's furious voice rose above everything else.

"Yer not the boss a' me, Leo!"

"I had hoped nature would do them good," the old rat said, tiredly shaking his head.

"It would," April insisted, putting a few cartons of milk in the fridge. "But in order to enjoy it they have to go outside." She turned around to her old friend with a comforting smile, willing some strength into him, while at the same time thanking her uterus she didn't have any children of her own.

Soon, Splinter's whiskers twitched at the sound of the television repeatedly switching from one channel to another. April thoughtfully bit the inside of her cheek. Then, after putting the ice cream in the freezer, she left the kitchen to see what was going on in the living room. She feared 'The Flight of the Remote' wasn't that far away.

Raphael say on the floor right in front of the TV, flicking the channel to what he wanted to watch, while Leo sat positioned on the couch; changing back to his world war documentary with the remote control aimed at the television.

"Stop doing that!" the oldest turtle demanded, his patience growing thinner by the second. "You'll break the TV!"

"So _you_ stop!" Raph countered from the floor, his finger continuously pressing one of the buttons on the TV. "Yer the one who keeps changin' the channel!"

"I was here first!" Leonardo argued, angrily speeding up his flicking of the remote, causing his younger brother to push his button even more violently.

"Umm... guys?" April hesitantly interrupted, witnessing the whole scene from the wide doorway, fearing something was about to break. If not the television then at least someone's patience. However, it seemed as if they didn't notice her, either that or they simply ignored her.

"I said stop it!" Leo yelled, rising to his feet to be able to aim better with the remote.

"_You_ stop it!"

April sighed and walked up to the TV, where she bent down and turned it off, causing both turtles to fall silent. And maybe it was her imagination playing tricks on the silence, but she thought she heard ringing noises in her ears.

"What's the matter, April?" Leo asked, looking a little concerned for his human friend.

"Yeah," Raphael filled in and looked up at her from the floor. " Ya look like ya haven't slept in days."

"Gee," April said, looking between the two of them. "I wonder why that is?"

Raph and Leo fearfully glanced at each other when they recognized her sarcastic tone, knowing from experience her girly temper wasn't far behind.

"What's wrong with you?" April asked, staring at the two of them. "You can't even watch TV without driving each other crazy, not to mention the rest of us."

"Sorry," Raph apoloqized flatly. "We didn't mean ta upset'cha."

"I don't understand why you can't get along with each other for _three_ simple weeks," April continued, tiredly putting her hand to her forehead. "I mean, is that really too much to ask?"

"Of course not," Leo said, walking up to her and putting a calming hand on her shoulder. "We're really sorry, April. We'll behave from now on." He exchanged a glance with Raph, silently coming to an agreement with each other on not to argue over the TV anymore. Worst thing they could think of was April having a nervous breakdown. No one really knew how to handle situations like that.

April looked up at Leo and answered in a calmer voice. "I know you say that now but... I just don't think this house is big enough for all four of you."

"What are ya sayin'?" Raphael asked, narrowing his eyes on his friend.

April looked from Leo down to Raph. Without another word spoken April left the two of them in the living room, staring at each other in confusion.

"What's that all about?" Raph asked, looking up from to floor at his older brother.

Leo shook his head in response, his eyes following April as she walked upstairs. After exchanging another glance with each other, Raph got up from the floor and followed Leo out of the room, looking up the stairway to the second floor where April entered one of the bedrooms.

* * *

Donatello and Michelangelo were playing 'Ice Climber' in the bedroom the two of them shared when they staying at April's house. The both of them were sitting on the floor in front of the small TV that wasn't good for anything else but video games. Just as Mikey was leaving Don behind to go ice climbing on his own, April entered the room. 

"Could you guys come downstairs?" she asked, watching their shells from the doorway.

"Righte-o," Mike said, his eyes glued to the screen as his blue clad Eskimo jumped from one platform to another. "I'm just gonna win.."

Donatello rolled his eyes and put his Nintendo control aside. The most obnoxious thing he knew was Michelangelo on a confidence boost. When he rose to his feet Mike was on the top of the mountain, chasing the red bird that flew across the screen.

"Yes!" The youngest turtle exclaimed as the Eskimo grabbed on to the bird's feet, clinging on for his animated life. "Another victory for He Who Cannot Be Defeated."

"Oh please," Donnie said, mockingly shaking his head. "You cry for mercy every time you're up against Raph."

Mike rose to his feet and quickly looked around the room, fearing the brother in question was near. Upon not finding him he confidently turned back to Donatello. "He Who Cannot Be Defeated does not see anyone with that name around here."

April shook her head and went back downstairs, her heels clicking on the steps of the stair.

"He Who Cannot Be Defeated needs to stop talking about himself in third person," Don said, bending down to the floor to turn off the video game and TV. "C'mon," he said, patting Mikey on the shoulder as he went after April to join the rest downstairs.

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When arriving downstairs Mike noticed everyone had gathered around the kitchen table, everyone except for April who stood in front of them, obviously about to deliver them some news. So, in order to avoid the seat positioned directly in front of the sun, he darted past Donatello and hogged one of the last two chairs. Donnie sighed as he walked up to the final chair, squinting his eyes to avoid the sun's fierce glow. 

"Okay," April said, nervously clapping her hands together. "Not that I don't enjoy having you around," she nodded apologetically to her green friends, "but I think the four of you locked up in this house together might not be the best way to spend the summer... for any of us."

Raph exchanged a suspicious glance with Don seated across from him, both of them wondering where this conversation was heading.

"So..." April trailed, fidgeting with her hands. "I thought maybe you should go hiking for a few days."

A stunned silence fell over the kitchen, no one really sure if they had heard her right. Although judging by the relieved look on Splinter's face, he definitely seemed to have gotten the idea of it.

"Hikin'?" Raph questioned pessimistically after a few more seconds of silence. "As in sleepin' in the forest?"

"U-huh," April nodded.

"On the ground.." Raphael continued, still not looking very excited about the proposal.

"Well, yeah," April said, sensing her suggestion wasn't as popular as she had hoped. "But it's not as uncomfortable as it sounds. With the right equipment it can be really fun," she quickly ensured the red masked reptile.

"An' by equipment ya mean...?" Raphael trailed, still not convinced about the whole thing.

"I have some stuff up in the attic," April said, listing the objects in question to her friends. "Tents, sleeping-bags, backpacks.. basically everything you'd need out there."

"Far out!" Mike exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his face. "So we'd be like sleeping outside," April nodded. "In tents! This is so cool! I've always wanted to go camping!"

"Well, this isn't exactly like camping," Don told his younger brother who sat next to him, peering his eyes to avoid the sun. "We'd be depending on nature completely. And with not being able to carry too much stuff with us as we'd be walking, we have to hunt our own food."

"So... you're not up for it?" Mikey asked disappointed.

"Are you kidding?" Donnie said, a smile curving his lips. "Count me in!"

Raphael shook his head as another one of his brothers gave in to the idea and joined the Scouts.

"So.. what about you, Leo?" April wondered, turning to her blue masked friend. "You like hiking, right?" There was an obvious hint of hope in her voice.

Leo nodded and turned to look at his friend. "I've always wanted to go hiking," he confirmed, causing two of his brothers to light up, while the third groaned at the news. "But I'm not so sure the four of us sleeping in the same tent is such a good idea," he added, putting a smile on Raph's face while the others slumped at the sudden turn of events.

"No, you'd be sleeping two in each tent," April quickly explained, afraid she might lose the oldest turtle's support. "So long as you and Raph don't sleep in the same one - I don't think there should be any problems."

"Yeah," Don lit up, trying to convert the Fearless Leader to their side. "The two of us could share a tent, Leo" he quickly offered, also seeing a way out of being roommates with Mikey, who after eight nights in the same room had gotten a little too much for him, to say the least.

"What?" Mikey exclaimed, looking sincerely hurt. "You're dumping me for _Leo_?"

Donnie quickly turned to his baby brother. "It's only for the greater good," he insisted. "Besides, you get to bunk with Raph." He pointed to the angry turtle sitting across the table.

"Talk about your second choices," Mike mumbled, glancing at the red masked turtle.

"Hey!" Raph hissed, angrily turning to his little brother. "Ya don't see me jumpin' with joy! Sides, it's not like we're actually doin' this, right Leo?" He turned to look at the oldest turtle, who still seemed to contemplate the trip.

"I don't know," Leonardo said, causing Raphael to lose some of his hope. He turned to his father, who had been quiet the whole time. "What do you think, Master?"

Splinter looked from Leo to his two youngest sons, who seemed very hopeful at his answer, but then as he turned to look at Raphael he realized not all of his students were crazy about the idea. But when looking inside himself for his own opinion, he realized he could certainly enjoy the peace and quiet the trip would bring him, which is what he suspected was April's intention with the whole thing. However, he realized he couldn't make this decision in his best interest, but had to consider how everyone else felt about it. In the end, he felt his decision would be best for all of them, even if some of them didn't see it themselves.

"I agree with Miss. O'Neil," he finally revealed, causing Don and Mike to highfive each other. "I believe the four of you could use some nature. Perhaps its soothing effect will put an end to this endless bickering."

"_Or_... maybe it'll worsen things," Raph quickly pointed out that the half full glass might as well be half empty. "Sensei, think about it: the four of us off hikin' togetha'? We could do some serious damage ta each otha'. Sides, isn't there that old sayin' about how turtles shouldn't sleep on the ground?"

Splinter sent his son a scolding look. "Don not be ridiculous, Raphael. There is no such thing. We came out here to get away from the crowded city. So far, none of you have left the yard. I believe this is a wonderful opportunity. The decision has been made, my son. Tomorrow morning the four of you will be ready to leave, so I suggest you start packing."

Raphael said nothing, but silently exchanged a discontent glance with his older brother, who for once didn't agree with their Master. Yes, he had always wanted to go hiking and enjoy the peaceful nature, but doing so with his siblings seemed anything _but_ peaceful, if not disastrous.

"Is this clear?" Splinter asked, his voice very solemn as he looked at his students.

"Yes, master," the four of them answered in chorus, although two of them didn't seem as enthusiastic as the other two.

"Great," April exclaimed, clapping her hands together in an attempt to lighten to mood in the kitchen. "If you want you can check the attic right away. I'm pretty sure everything you'll need is up there. Just try to only bring what's necessary. That bag might not seem so heavy when you leave tomorrow, but trust me, after carrying that thing for a few days you'll be thankful you didn't stuff anything else inside it."

"Sounds like you're talking form experience," Donatello implied, squinting his eyes to be able to look at April, who was standing with her back to the sun.

"You could say that again," she confirmed with a nod. "My dad used to drag my brother and I away from the house to teach us about the 'wonders of nature'." She rolled her eyes at the memory.

"What about your mom?" Mikey wondered, leaning forward on the table. "Didn't see come with you?"

"Well, no," April replied, shaking her head. "She used to stay behind with our grandmother. She always said it was because she was allergic to grass... but I think her and grams had their own little vacation here, at the house. See, my brother and I used to drive them crazy with our constant fighting with each other."

"Talk about apples not fallin' far from the tree," Raph murmured and snickered with his brothers.

April, suddenly aware of the similarities between their situations, smiled sheepishly and scratched herself in the back of her head. "Well.. uh..." she stammered, not sure on what to say. "That was something _completely_ different. I mean, I'm doing this for _you_... right? Not because _I_ need some vacation."

"Right," Raphael said with a smirk, not the least bit convinced about her lame excuse.

"C'mon, dudes," Mikey said as he rose from the chair to leave for the attic. "I think mom and grams wants to be alone."

April and Splinter glanced at each other as the four teenagers left snickering with each other. Splinter held back a smile as he took a sip from his tea, hiding his face behind the cup.

"Oh my God," April breathed with realization after a few moments of silence. "I've become my mother!"

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**A/N: **_Okay, now those of you who read the earlier work. Don'cha think it's a lot like it? What with how this and the other story began? Anyway... I probably posted this chapter earlier than what might be safe. Because so far, I haven't written anything else (except for some ideas about what should happen to the guys when they're hiking) but other than that I'm pretty much stumbling in the dark. Anyway, I hope I'll be able to pull this off. Could turn out to be pretty fun. Oh, and one last thing. Please review and tell me what you thought of it? Hopefully it'll kick some sense into my ass and get me writing the next chapter. Tah tah!_  



	2. Only the necessary, Mikey

**Chapter 2 - "Only the necessary, Mikey."**

"What kinda crap is she hidin' up here?" Raphael grunted and held up a knitted, yellow oven mitt, one he wasn't really sure what it was supposed to be. He looked at it from a different angle, trying to figure out what he was holding in his hand.

"It's an oven mitt," Don as-a-matter-of-factually pointed out to his brother, from where he went through a few sets of boxes.

"I know it's an oven mitt!" Raph quickly defended himself, glaring at Donatello. "But what's up with these... horns?" he asked, pointing to a couple of black cones that stuck out from the top of the yellow mitten.

"Dude, where's your inner child?" Mike teased as he walked across the attic and up to his brother. "Can't ya see it's a giraffe?" He quickly snatched the mitten from his brother and put it onto his own hand, playing with the giraffe like a puppet.

"Looks more like n' old sock, if ya ask me," the red masked turtle muttered, trying to act as if he wasn't bothered by the fact that he couldn't tell that the spotted mitten was a giraffe.

"Ra-aph!" Mike scolded, putting his other hand over the giraffe's ears. "Not in front of Mr. Gaffy."

"What?" Raph said, crossing his arms on his plastron. "Now ye gonna name the stupid sock?"

Mike shoved up the oven mitt in Raphael's face, flapping with its mouth while turning up his voice a notch, pretending the giraffe was talking. "That's not very nice Mr. Grumpy. You hurt my feelings." He started making sobbing sounds and pretended the giraffe was crying.

Raph, being severely allergic to all talking stuffed animals, viciously clenched his hand around the crying oven mitt, pulling Mr. Gaffy off of Michelangelo's hand.

"Hey!" Mikey quickly sobered up and reached for his new found friend. "Get your own giraffe! That one's mine!"

Raphael snickered as he held the knitted kitchen supply over his little brother's head, keeping him from being able to reach it. "You want it?" he taunted, waving with the giraffe in the air, Mike jumping stubbornly below it.

"Raph, stop it!" Mike whined, his arms flailing above his head. "Give him back!"

Raphael turned to his other two brothers, snickering sadistically. Even Don and Leo couldn't keep themselves from laughing at the sight, but Leo quickly sobered up as his brotherly instincts took over.

"C'mon, Raph," he said, a stern look in his eyes. "Give it back to him."

Raphael decided he had had enough fun with the sock and dropped it onto Mikey's head. It slid off his bald skull and landed on the floor, behind the youngest turtle's shell.

Mike quickly bent down to retrieve it, petting the mitten over its head. "Don't worry Mr. Gaffy," he said, comforting his shocked friend. "I won't let the mean turtle hurt you. What's that?" he asked, lowering his head to the mitten, pretending it was telling him something. He then shot Raph a glance before he turned back to the giraffe, nodding in agreement. "You're right. He's _very_ unattractive."

As Raph quickly fired up at the insult, Mikey sprung across the attic, returning to the chest he had been looking through before his older brother had found the oven mitt. Before returning to searching for hiking equipment, Mike childishly stuck out his tongue at Raph, who for once decided to let it slide.

"Okay, that's enough, Mikey," Leo said, deciding it was his turn to step in. "You won't find any sleeping-bags by doing that. Keep searching the trunk."

"Party pooper," Mike grumpily accused his oldest brother before he pulled the oven mitt over his hand and reached down the chest to look through it.

Leo shared a glance with Donatello before the two of them continued searching through the cardboard boxes. Although it didn't take more than a few seconds for Mike to break the silence - again.

"Hey dudes, look at this!"

When turning back to the youngest turtle, they found Michelangelo holding up an old purple dress in front of his plastron, imagining what it would look like on him. Had it not been for the fact that the purple fabric was dirty and moth-eaten, it might have been a pretty dress. But time hadn't been kind to the piece of clothing he held up in front of him.

"Isn't it beautiful?" the orange masked turtle inquired, flailing with the dusty fabirc.

"Very," Donnie said sarcastically, turning back to the boxes.

"Oh, c'mon," Mikey waved off the comment as if it was nothing but a small insect flying in front of his face. "You're just jealous I found it first." He walked up to a body sized mirror that stood in the corner of the attic, admiring the reflection that was himself. "Who woulda' thought I'd be such a bodacious babe.."

"Please," Don objected and looked up at his brother with a playful look in his eyes. "That's not even your color."

Mike turned to Donatello with an insulted look on his face. "Hey!" he said, pointing at him from across the room. "_All_ colors are my color." He then turned back to the mirror, playing with the skirt of the dress.

"I always feared one of ya would grow up ta be a cross dressa'," Raphael mumbled, his back turned to the others as he searched the crammed shelves that stood against one of the walls.

This quickly crushed the little picture Mike had painted up for himself. He hurriedly went back to the old trunk and put the dress back, as if he hadn't found it in the first place.

Raph grinned to himself, suddenly coming across something he thought might be a tent. "Ey, look at this!" he called, bringing out the rollled up cotton bag for his siblings to see. "I know I'm no girl scout, but this looks a lot like the otha' tent ya found." He pointed to the identical bag that laid on the floor over by Leo and Donnie, along with their backpacks and the three sleeping-bags they had found so far.

"Well, girl scout or not," Don said, walking up to Raphael and grabbing the brown bag from him. "I think you're right."

Raph lit up a little, proud to have found what all of them had been searching for.

Michelangelo quickly noticed this and chuckled from the other side of the room. "Aww, look how proud he is!" He then turned to the mitten on his right hand, pretending it had something important to say. And once again, by masking his voice and sounding like a female cow, the knitted giraffe was talking. "If only we had some sweets to give to Mr. Grumpy."

What had recently resembled somewhat of a smile quickly turned into an angry glare, one Raph sent his youngest brother's way. "Watch it, Mikey. Or I'll shred that stupid sock."

Mike fearfully held onto his friend, afraid Raphael might go through with his threat.

"Focus, shall we?" Leo reminded the two of them, turning back to Donatello as he put the second tent next to the first one. "Okay... so we're missing a sleeping-bag, a map and.. what else?" He turned to Don, in hope that he remembered.

"Uhh..." Donnie took a moment to think. "Fishing-rods!" He victoriously pointed at his brother.

"Right," Leo said, nodding to himself. He then turned back to his other two brothers. "So keep looking. All of it should be up here... somewhere," he silently added to himself, turning back to search the boxes.

Raph went back to searching the shelves, his right hand travelling across all the junk April stored there.

_Books... rugs... more books... ancient sneakers... No, make that smelly, ancient sneakers,_ he quickly corrected his thoughts. But then he found something that could definitely spice up their little camping trip.

"Hey, guys," he said, grabbing the deck of cards he just found. "What about these?" He turned around and showed the treasure to the rest of them, everyone's faces brightening up with a smile.

"_Definitely_ those," Leo approved with a nod, thinking about all the games of solitaire he could play. "But you should probably make sure all the cards are still in there, given everything else we've found up here." His eyes travelled to the pile of 'useless crap' that he and Donatello had created when going through the cardboard boxes.

"Right," Raphael confirmed with a small nod, seating himself on the nearest chair to start sorting out the deck.

All turtles soon returned to their stations, tiredly searching for the equipment that they were still missing. Only, it didn't take long for Michelangelo to interrupt them - yet again.

"Check these out!" he exclaimed, holding a pair of brown boots in his hands. They were tied together by the laces and dangled from his grip. "Pretty neat, huh?" He nodded smilingly, playfully wiggling his eye ridges.

"Only the necessary, Mikey," Leo reminded him, for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day.

"What?" Mike shrugged and took off the oven mitt. He sat down on the floor and neatly placed his knitted friend beside him, moving on to untying the laces so he would be able to try on the shoes. "These are necessary. Ya can't go hiking without a pair of hiking boots." He enthusiastically pulled one of the shoes onto his green, two-toed foot.

"When you're a mutated turtle, you can," Don pointed out from across the room.

"How would _you_ know?" Mikey countered, shoving his other foot into the shoe. "You've never gone hiking before." He quickly tied the laces and stood to show his siblings his accomplishment. "Taa-daah!"

"Wow," Raph said sarcastically, staring at his little brother. "He can tie his own shoes an' everythin'..."

"Yeah," Donatello agreed with a nod, a smile curving his lips. "Unfortunately he tied them onto the wrong foot." The three of them started laughing.

Mike's proud grin quickly worn off as he bent down to inspect the matter further, discovering that his braniac brother was in fact right. "Wha-at?" he quickly defended himself as he sat back down to put them onto the right foot. "I've never worn shoes before. So for a first-timer that's still pretty impressive."

"Extremely," Leo said, shaking his head at his little brother's antics. "I still think you should lose the boots."

Mikey looked up from where he sat, tying his shoes. "Well, since you're not working in fashion, even though you might have some fruity qualities," he quickly added, causing an offended Leonardo to drop his jaw. "You're not qualified enough to tell _this_ turtle how to dress." He pointed to himself with his thumb.

Leo stared at his youngest brother, completely speechless. "Okay, first of all," he finally said, having melted the insult. "There's nothing wrong with being homosexual, and second of all.. _Fruity_? Wh-what do you mean I'm fruity? I'm not fruity!" Leo's hysterical voice went a pitch higher, making it sound squeaky and girly.

Mike winced at the glass-cutting sound his oldest brother was making. "Okay, Mr. Manly," he then said, having recovered from the noise. "Just because you're dressed in blue and play with swords it doesn't make you a man."

Leonardo angrily crossed his arms, waiting for the explanation Mikey was about to deliver.

"For one thing, you don't see Steven Segal crying when he's watching 'The Lion King,' do ya?" Mike wisely pointed out.

"Steven Segal?" Raph repeated with an unimpressed look on his face.

"What?" Mike said, turning to look at him. "He's manly."

"Whatever works for ya.." Raph mumbled, turning back to the cards.

"Why?" Mikey questioned, turning back to Don and Leo. "What's wrong with Steven Segal?"

"You honestly think he's even _seen_ 'The Lion King'?" Donatello asked, raising his eye ridges. "And in Leo's defence, that movie's really sad."

Leo nodded gratefully at his brother, already tearing up at the memory of the Disney film. "It's just... That scene where Simba's trying to wake Mofasa up... I--" the oldest brother then trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

"It's okay," Donnie said, supportively patting his big brother on his shell. "He forgave himself at the end, remember?"

Leo nodded, sniffing pathetically to himself.

Raphael and Mikey exchanged odd glances, wondering how that weeping wreck could be the same Fearless Leader they followed in battle. Mike then shook his head to clear his mind and turned back to Donatello. "Maybe we should just keep looking for that sleeping-bag," he said, pointing to the trunk he was sitting next to.

"Maybe we should," Don agreed with a big brother-nod.

The three turtles awkwardly went back to searching the attic, while Raphael silently went through the deck for any missing cards.

* * *

In the living room April, Splinter, Raphael and Leonardo sat and watched the news. April was filling them in on the guy who delivered the news, giving them the inside scoop on how the guy cheated on his wife on Channel 6's Christmas party last year.

"Apparently," April said, not aware of the fact that all of her male friends had tuned her voice out a long time ago in order to hear the news. "Janine, the woman he cheated with, was transferred to another department when his wife found out about them. Although, from what I've head," she added, gesticulating with her hand. "Scott and his wife are still married. Bet they wouldn't be if they didn't have any kids. You wouldn't think that by just looking at him, would you?" April finally asked, turning to look at Raphael sitting next to her on the L-shaped couch.

"Hmm?" Raph quickly turned to look at her when he realized she was talking to him. "N-no, yer absolutely right."

April suspiciously narrowed her eyes on him, only now realizing none of them had been listening to her Channel 6 gossip. "You weren't listening!" She accusingly slapped him on the arm.

"Sure I was," Raphael insisted, his arms still resting on his chest.

"Oh yeah?" April inquired, rising her eyebrows. "Then what did I say?"

This got Raph thinking. "Err.." He glanced at Leonardo for support. Unfortunately for him, Leo had been ignoring April just like he had, and only shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Well?" April pushed, causing the red masked turtle to look back at her.

"Uhh.." Raph stammered, twisting uncomfortably, noticing his father smiling in the corner of his eye. "Ye were talkin' about... that guy!" he finally got out, pointing to the reporter at the TV.

"Yeah," April confirmed flatly. "And what about him?" She bore her eyes deeper into her turtle friend, who once again turned to Leo for help. "Don't look at, Leo," April immediately peeped, pulling on his arm to get his attention.

"Well _he_ didn't lissen, eitha'," Raphael quickly defended himself.

"_None_ of you listened?" April questioned, her voice rising a little.

The two turtles sheepishly shrugged their shoulders, thinking it wasn't such a big deal.

The young woman grunted and turned to look at the old rat who had been keeping a low profile during the conversation. "What about you, Master Splinter?" she wondered, believing that at least one of her inhabitants still listened to her.

Splinter uncomfortably turned in his seat, his whiskers twitching worriedly.

"Oh forget it," April gave up, crossing her arms and leaning back against the couch, her eyes turned to the television.

The room fell deadly silent, all three mutants exchanging worried glances with each other. Finally, since Raphael sat closest to the upset woman, he carefully lifted his hand and patted her awkwardly on her shoulder.

April only turned to look at him with a murderous glare, causing Raph to stop touching her instantly, sensing it was best to.

The four of them then returned to watching the news, none of them daring to speak. A few minutes later, Donatello hurried past the living room doorway, and barely seconds after that, worrying noises began to take form in the kitchen. It sounded like he was going through the cupboards, which of course caused the owner of the kitchen to shoot up from the couch.

April stressed inside the kitchen to find out what her purple dressed friend was up to, stopping in the doorway to find him crouched by a cabinet, all its objects spread out on to the floor.

"What are you doing?" April asked, causing the turtle to turn and look at her.

"Oh, it's you," he said, as if the female voice could've belonged to someone else. He quickly turned back to the cupboard, peeking inside it. "I'm looking for some bottles."

"Of what?" April wondered, slowly entering the kitchen, being careful not to step on any sauce pans.

"Just empty bottles," Donnie explained, moving on to the next cabinet. "I thought we might need them for tomorrow," he said, adding another set of sauce pans to the mess on the floor. "You know, for water."

"Well, do you have to ruin my kitchen while doing it?" April wondered, almost stumbling over her frying pan. "And also," she added, stopping a couple of feet behind her green friend. "They're in the closet upstairs."

"Oh," Don said, holding a baking plate in his hands. "Well, err.. I promise I'll clean this up," he added, turning to look at her with a sheepish look.

"Uh-huh.." April acknowledged, crossing her arms over her chest.

Donatello quickly moved on to putting everything back in its rightful place, April supervising him from behind. When he was almost done, Michelangelo came strolling inside the kitchen, walking straight up to the larder.

"What are you looking for?" April asked, turning to look at the youngest ninja.

"I'm just packing some essential hiking food," he explained, reaching inside the cabinet for what he came for.

"Those are crackers," Donnie pointed out from the floor.

"Yeah," Mike closed the cabinet and turned to the others. "A must-have-meal for any hiker."

"Right.." Don said, going back to cleaning up after himself.

Mikey ripped into the bag and allowed himself a cracker.

"I thought those were for hiking?" April asked, beginning to think it was just a synonym for 'night snack'.

"It is," Mike insisted, crumbles shooting out of his mouth as he spoke. "I'm just checking if they're still good." With that, the youngest turtle left the kitchen and went back upstairs to his room, where he had been packing his belongings.

April turned around to Don. "I thought that's what the expiration date was for...?"

Donatello, who had finished cleaning up, shrugged in response. Simply letting Mikey be Mikey. He rose to his feet and looked at April. "You said _upstairs_ closet, right?" he asked, just to make sure he had heard right.

"Yeah," April confirmed hastily. "But you know what," she quickly added, afraid of what he might do to the things she kept there, what with how the kitchen turned out when he was looking for something. "_I_'ll get the bottles. You just go watch the news with the others." She turned around to leave when Don's voice stopped her.

"Actually," he said, causing his friend to turn around. "I meant to ask you about a map. You know, of the neighbourhood."

April took a moment to think. "I think I have one," she said, looking back to him. "Although I'm not sure where my dad put it."

"Your dad?" Donnie repeated, a worried look creeping onto his face.

"Yeah, I haven't seen it since the last time we went hiking," April explained, not understanding why her friend looked so upset.

"And when was that exactly?" Donatello asked.

"Oh, I don't know..." April trailed, doing a quick math in her head. "Ninety-three, ninety-four... why?"

"It's _that_ old?" Don outburst, a look of panic plastered on his face. "That's more than ten years ago."

"Yeah, so what's the problem?" April wondered, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

"The _problem_ is that in ten years, this forest has probably changed. I'm not sure we'll be able to find our way with that thing." Donnie tiredly shook his head, thinking it was much too late for any problems to pop up. They were leaving in the morning, and according to April, they would do so with a map from 1993.

"I wouldn't worry about that," April said, waving her arm at the problem. "I don't think there's been any changes up here. Nothing major, at least."

"You sure?" Don questioned, a little relieved.

"Yeah, I don't worry," April insisted, smiling at the worked up turtle. "And if I'm not mistaken, I think my dad put the map in the glove compartment in our old truck."

"That blue, old piece of junk on wheels?"

"It's not junk," April defended the old truck. "I had my first driving lessons in that truck," she said, thinking back to the summers when her dad had let her and her brother start driving the truck. Of course, it had only been on the field behind the house. But still, it was a pretty powerful experience for a ten year-old.

"I'm surprised you're still alive," Donatello teased, causing April to slap him playfully on the arm. "What? I've seen you drive. And that old thing doesn't even have any seat belts."

"Ha. Ha," April said, obviusly not amused. "I drove _you_ out here, didn't I?"

"Barely," Donnie said, avoiding another slap.

"Just go get the map," April said, walking out of the kitchen. "There's a flashlight in the broom cupboard," she called over her shoulder as she went up the stairs to look for the water bottles.

Donatello nodded to himself and went over to the cupboard to get the flashlight.

* * *

Raphael enjoyed some late night 'Jackass'. When the news ended, he and Leo teamed up to be able to receive 'MTV' on the old farmhouse TV. Luckily, a little punching it worked just great, and the two of them were able to kick back on the couch, Splinter hiding behind a newspaper.

"Raphael?" April said as she peeked through the doorway, causing the people of the room to look up at her.

"Yeah?" the turtle in question answered, looking up from the couch.

"Could you help me with something?"

"Depends on what it is," Raph replied the obviously.

"I have to move some things out of the closet, or I won't be able to reach the water bottles you need for tomorrow," April explained, knowing that if she made it clear she was doing it for them, the teenager wouldn't be able to turn her down.

"Fine," Raph grunted, using his arms to rise from the couch. He tiredly followed the reporter up the stairs and down the hall to the closet she had been talking about. His eyes practically popped out of their sockets as April opened the door to the small closet, revealing all the things she had crammed inside it.

* * *

Through the dark night wandered a turtle, his weak flashlight flickering on and off. He considered going back inside for some new batteries but figured he had to turn the kitchen upside down again to find them. So he silently walked up the old shed, pushing the squeaky door open.

He peered inside for the infamous truck, but saw nothing but pitch-black darkness. Don pointed the flashlight into the shed, hitting it few times to get the light working, and for a split second he noticed the blue, old truck parked at the far end of the shed, only to have the flashlight die on him right afterwards.

Donnie sighed and went through the door, his bare feet stepping on old chip that was spread across the ground. While making his way across the shed, Don thought he heard something on his right. He quickly turned around, armed with the dead flashlight. He hit it across the handle a couple of times, causing the weak light to turn on. But when aiming the light at the spot where he had heard the noise, he saw nothing but a couple of rusty scythes hanging on the wooden wall.

Don shuddered a little while telling himself it was probably just a rat he had heard. So, with his flash light flickering a few times before going dead again, he continued his path towards the old truck.

After taking a few steps, a noise on his left side caught his attention.

Donnie froze for a moment, trying to punch some life into his flashlight. After a few seconds of hitting it, the faint light kicked back on and he quickly pointed it to where he had heard the noise - only to find nothing but an old tool shelf placed against the wall. He tried to come up with a scientific explanation for what just happened, refusing to believe it was something as ridiculous as a ghost.

Mikey believed in ghosts, not him. He believed in sense and reason.

After the flashlight in his hand died once again, Donnie kept walking towards the truck, this time walking a little faster than before, in case there would be another sound. The moment he reached the truck he pulled the passenger door open, blindly searching for the glove compartment. He quickly found it and opened it, his breathing a little strained as he rummaged through it for anything that might feel like a map. After a few frantic seconds of searching and still not finding the map, Don took the hand he held the open door with and smacked it over the flashlight, willing some power into the drained batteries.

To his relief a weak light did come on and the turtle quickly pointed it to the glove compartment, moving the flashlight to his left grip to be able to search with his right hand. He soon found the old map - folded together not so nicely - and shakily grabbed onto it. He pulled himself out of the truck and slammed the door shut.

In doing so, a number of noises filled the dark shed, this time coming from all around him.

Don frantically hit the flashlight, trying to tap into its last few seconds of light. But when punching the object for what seemed like an eternity and the whisking noises around him only grew stronger, Donnie decided to take the advice of his drumming heart and ran for the exit.

Completely hysteric, Donatello sprinted across the shed, his feet kicking up the chip on the ground as he rushed for the small source of light coming from the partly open door. Suddenly, a stinging sensation in his foot caused him to scream in fear, limping the last few feet between himself and the door, tons of bats swarming around him.

* * *

Raphael tiredly put down the old table to the floor, angrily turning around once he heard April's perky voice from inside the closet.

"Here's another one," she called, holding out an identical table to the hideous one he had just moved.

Raph grunted and walked up to his friend, grabbing the table while trying to twist it to be able to get it out of the ridiculously small closet. "Y'know," he said, the corners of the small wooden table digging into his palms. "Ya might wanna think about cleanin' this closet." He gave the table one final pull to get it out, stepping up to the huge pile of junk they had gotten out so far.

"I've thought about it a couple of times," April spoke from inside the closet, while Raphael set the small table down on top of the other one. "But I figured I barely use it anyway, so..." She turned around with a pink beanbag in her arms, holding it up for Raph to take.

The red masked turtle grumbled and walked back to the closet to fetch the ugly beanbag, April shoving it into his face once he did. "Well," he mumbled, his face smothered behind the piece of furniture. "Ya might wanna consider it, in case ya might need those bottles again.." He stumbled over to the giant pile and dropped the beanbag, a frustrated shiver running through his body.

"Naaah," April shrugged from inside the closet, unable to see the angry look on Raph's face. "I can always ask for your help in case I need anything in this closet."

"Right.." Raphael growled, walking up to the open door.

"Okay," April said, stepping out from the closet with a globe of the earth in her embrace. "I've looked through all the shelves and... they're not there," she finished, putting the globe aside.

"You sure?" Raph asked angrily, pressing himself past her to be able to check the closet himself.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," April replied, looking at him as he squeezed himself inside the teensy tiny space.

"Whadda they look like?" Raph asked, unable to so much as turn around once inside.

"They're in a bag," April answered, trying to smother her urge to laugh. Although it was very hard, for she had never seen a giant turtle squeezed inside such a small closet before. "A plastic bag, I think it's yellow," she added, putting her hand over her mouth.

Raph's eyes searched she shelves for something of that description, not being able to do much but just that - look. "Wait," he suddenly lit up, detecting something yellow on top of one of the shelves. "I think I found somethin'."

"Yeah?" April questioned, using all her strength to keep herself from bursting out laughing.

Raphael grunted as he tried to move himself in order to be able to reach his arm in that direction, his shell scraping against the edge of the door, that out of the two ways to open, opened inwards; robbing the shrunken room on even more space.

Another movement caused a few of the things on the shelf to crash down onto Raph, burying him in everything from curtains to old LP's that no one listened to anymore.

April froze at the sound, waiting for Raph to start cussing and cursing. Although to her great surprise, all she heard was a long extended hiss, the sound completely wheezing out between his teeth.

"Are you okay?" she asked, hoping it was safe to speak.

"Damn junk ambushed me!" Raph outburst, trying to squeeze himself past the door to be able to get out. Once safely out of the closet, he noticed the amused look on April's face. "Ye betta' not start laughin'," he angrily advised, pushing himself past her to get as far away from the cursed closet as possible.

"I'm sorry," April apologized giggling, causing the tempered turtle to send her one of his infamous glares. April quickly excused herself by looking inside the closet, pretending to be searching for the bottles. "Wait," she suddenly said, bending down to pick something up.

"Ya found 'em?" Raph questioned, perking up a little.

"No," April said and rose to her feet. "But I found these." She turned around with a heap of yellow clothes in her embrace. When unfolding one of them, Raph realized they were raincoats. "There's four of them," April said, looking through them. "Isn't that perfect?"

"What?" Raph asked pessimistically. "Yer expectin' _me_ ta put that _on_?"

April looked up at him with a surprised expression. "What?" she asked, looking at the raincoats again. "What's wrong with these? You'll need them."

"Yeah, that may be true," Raph said, crossing his arms and glaring at the yellow rubber coats. "But I still ain't wearin' 'em."

"Oh, c'mom, Raph," April insisted, holding up a coat for him to take. "It's not like anybody'll see you out there. Just try it on."

"Fergit it," Raphael refused, taking a step back. "There's no way in hell I'm about to put on a shiny, yellow coat."

"Fine," April said, retracting the coat. "Suit yourself. I'll give these to your brothers, then. So at least _they_ won't get sick in the rain."

"It's not even rainin'," Raph smartly pointed out, not about to let her trick him into wearing that.

"Well - _now_ - yeah," April said, rolling her eyes. "But you know, the weather has this uncanny ability to change."

"We've been here over a week and there's been _nothin_' but sun," Raphael reminded her.

"Fine," April said, tossing one of the coats back inside the closet. "I won't force you. I'm just saying--'"

"I ain't wearin' it," Raph interrupted her, knowing how she was going to finish that sentence.

"Okay," April surrendered, putting the coats aside. "Although we still have to find those bottles." She walked past him and lifted the beanbag to put it back inside the closet.

"But ye don't even know where they're at," Raph said, grabbing one of the tables and walking after his friend.

"No, I know where they are," April corrected him, while pushing the big, pink furniture through the doorway. "It's just I _thought_ they'd be in here." She stepped aside to allow Raph to put back the table.

"So where are they, then?" Raph asked, once again trying to hold the table in the proper angle so it would go through the door.

"The closet downstairs," April said simply, causing the temperature in the hall to drop below freezing point.


	3. Are we there yet?

**Chapter 3 - "Are we there yet?"**

"Could ya pass the milk?" the youngest turtle requested with cereals flying out of his mouth, waving his hand for Donatello to hand it over.

Don grabbed the milk carton and reached it over to his brother, exchanging disgusted glances with the other members at the breakfast table. He then watched with puzzlement as Mikey flooded his not-even-empty plate with more milk, his soggy puffs swimming around in the gigantic plate.

Mike allowed himself another spoon, milk dripping down his chin, and suddenly started waving with his free arm in the air, earning perplexed looks from April and his family. "Cereals!" he explained, waving more frantically for someone to pass him the box.

April reached over the table and passed it to Donnie, who once again passed it to a gorging Michelangelo. He leaned the box over his plate, certainly not holding back on the food, as more puffs washed over the old ones, creating some sort of mounting rising in the pool of milk. The turtle barely put the box down before he dug into the feast with his spoon, reaching for his cheese sandwich when at the same time shoving cereal into his yap.

Raphael exchanged a disgusted glance with Don before he took a bite from his own sandwich, leaving Mikey to his compulsive eating.

"Michelangelo," Splinter finally spoke, his hand grasping his hot cup of tea.

His son innocently looked up at him with his spoon still sticking out of his mouth. "Yeah?" he answered, milk pouring out as he spoke.

"Is there a reason for this..." the old rat took a moment to find the proper word, "..unpleasant behaviour?"

Raphael and Leo shared a small smile, knowing that was probably the closest to an insult one would come with Master Splinter.

Mikey swallowed the food in his mouth before he answered his father. "Whaddaya mean 'unpleasant'?" He looked sincerely confused, as if hoarding breakfast was something he always did. Then again, it was, but not to point where the others at the table lost their appetite.

"You seem to eat awfully much, my son," Splinter explained.

"Not ta mention fast," Raphael added, putting down his sandwich so he would be able to give his full attention to the fresh conversation.

"Oh," Mike said, mixing his cereal with the spoon. "I figured I had to be, y'know, prepared." He quickly shovelled some puffs onto his spoon and lifted it to his mouth.

"Prepared for what?" Donatello questioned, turning to look at the turtle next to him. "Famine?"

A chuckle escaped April's throat, putting a smile to the other's faces.

Mikey glanced at April before he looked back to Don. "Well, if we're gonna be hunting our own food, there's no telling when I get to eat again."

Splinter nodded understandingly, smiling supportively at his youngest son. "I am sure there is no need for you to worry," he said, beginning to stir his spoon in the cup. "The nature has plenty to offer."

"Maybe," Mike said, dipping his spoon in the milk again. "But it doesn't have any cereal."

* * *

It was a beautiful day. The warmth of the sun oozed upon the three turtles that stood on the front yard of the house, their backpacks ready on their shells. Leonardo nervously played with his feet against the grass he stood on, as he inspected the map of the forest. The time was ticking closer to ten, which was their dead line for leaving, and with Donatello still inside the house it began to worry him. He was very neurotic when it came to time and schedules.

"So are we doin' this, or what?" Raphael said impatiently, seated on the bottom step of the front porch.

Leo turned around to look at his brother. "That's the plan," he said, temporarily folding up the map. "Why don't you go inside and check if Donnie's ready?"

"Why don'cha check fer yerself?" Raph returned the questioned, not intending to move unless he absolutely had to.

"Fellas," Mike interrupted them with his oven mitt attached to his right hand, once again pretending the giraffe was talking. "Let's not get ugly with each other. Because we're gonna have fun, fun, fun!"

Raph turned to look at Michelangelo and his annoying friend, everything but amusement visible in his glare.

"Oh, but Mr. Grumpy," Mike flapped Mr. Gaffy's mouth open, walking closer to the irritated turtle. "That frown does not belong on our camping trip. Because this is a trip of fun, fu--"

"...fun, fun.." Leo finished, glaring at his little brother. "We get it, Mike. Keep that glove quiet, will you? Mr. Grumpy's grumpy enough as it is." He ignored the glare Raph sent him for using his very unpopular petname and turned back to the map in his hands, planning out the journey for the day.

Mikey lowered Mr. Gaffy and took a step away from Raph, in case the look in his eyes were serious. As Raphael's angry glare still rested on him, Mike got nervous and decided it was time to tie his shoes, which he was set on bringing in spite of his siblings' advise and complaints.

A few moments later the forth turtle appeared on the porch, backpack strapped on his shell. April and Splinter walked out behind him, squinting at the fierce sun.

"Donnie!" Mike exclaimed, happy that they were finally leaving.

"Finally," Raph muttered, crankily rising to his feet and stepping out on the grass. "The hell took ya so long?"

Donatello nervously glanced down at his feet, afraid of what his brothers might say.

The rest of the turtles followed with their eyes down to Don's feet, discovering that one of them was in fact wearing a yellow plastic bag.

"And you complain about me wearing shoes.." Mike said simply, snickering at the sight.

"What's up with the bag?" Raphael asked, looking back up at Don's face.

"April bandaid my foot. You know, for the nail I stepped on last night. And I have to have some kind of protection for the gauze. It might risk becoming infected if I walk barefoot," Donnie explained, glancing at April, his eyes telling her, ' See? I told you they'd make fun of me.'

"So how come ya chose ta bag it, out of all things?" Raph wondered, looking back down to his brother's right foot.

"What? You want me dressed up in boots like Mikey?" Don asked, making his brother see it from a different perspective.

"He's got a point," Leo said, nodding at his red clad brother.

"Hey!" Mike exclaimed, recognizing an insult when he heard one. "For your information, these are totally in right now." He proudly pointed to the brown boots on his feet.

"Sure.." Leonardo mumbled, turning back to the map. "So," he then said, looking up at his brothers. "Is everyone ready?" All three turtles nodded. "All right then. We should get going if we wanna make it to the lake before dark."

"You are not too old for a hug, are you?" the old rat spoke up once he realized he wouldn't be able to see either of his sons for several days. Yes, it would be nice with a little peace and quiet, but it wouldn't keep him from missing them.

Donnie turned around to his father, a tender smile stretching his lips. "Of course not, Master," he said and embraced the old rat. After hugging Splinter he then moved on to April, wrapping his arms around her. "I hope you're right about that map," he said, brining a smile to April's lips.

"Don't worry," she laughed. "You'll find your way with it."

After all four teenagers had hugged their father and their friend they gathered on the lawn, Leo in the front. "All right," he said, turning from his brothers to the two people standing on the porch. "We'll see you in a few days. Take care of each other."

Splinter smiled and nodded, both his hands grasping the cane he held in front of him, while April gave her friends a small wave as they walked off. It didn't take long before all four turtles were gone, having stepped around the corner of the house to reach the path they were scheduled to follow.

April turned to Splinter, a small smile on her lips. "You think they'll enjoy themselves out there?"

"I am sure they will have their good and their bad moments," the rat answered, thoughtfully gazing out over the landscape.

Soon enough the two of them walked back inside the house, enjoying the peaceful silence they were for once welcomed with.

* * *

"Wow, look at that bird!" Mikey exclaimed, pointing at one of the many trees surrounding them.

"It's a crow," Don said bitterly from behind him, getting tired of Mikey's fascination with everything they came across. Sure, there was nothing wrong with being positive. He himself felt very positive about their trip, even with his bagged foot, but being amazed by every single thing they saw was a little too much, especially since they saw so many things.

"I know!" Mike practically glowed, stopping to take a picture of the black bird with his disposable camera. "But it's so big!" He wired up the device and hit the flash, scaring the bird away. He turned to look at his two brother's walking behind him. "Have you ever seen a crow that big before!"

"Yeah!" Raph snapped, trying to get past a halted Donnie. "Juz five minutes ago when ya pointed out the last one."

"Oh," Mike said sheepishly, turning back to look at the escaping bird, that landed on the top of one of the taller trees among them. "But I still think this one's bigger." He squinted his eyes and shaded his face with a hand.

"Move, will ya?" Raphael ordered, getting tired of stopping at every wonder his little brother discovered. "We're hikin'. Not sightseein', rememba'?"

Mike quickly hurried past Raph, in case he might step on anything worth photographing. He only walked a few feet behind Leo, who barely took his eyes off the map. They had been walking for a few hours and so far Leo had only stopped to brush off a bug that landed on his precious map. He insisted there was no time for lunch if they wanted to make it to the lake before nightfall. The news had been heavy on Michelangelo for a minute or two, until he spotted a weird looking tree to photograph.

Soon enough they reached a clearing, where the rest of the forest continued a few yards up ahead.

"Sweet!" Mike beamed, grabbing a stronger hold of his camera. "Dudes, we just _gotta_ stop here!"

"NO!" the other hikers objected together.

"Oh , c'mon," Mike begged as he turned around to Donnie and Raphael. "This place would be perfect for the family picture!"

"For the last time, Mike," Raph hissed, his hands clutching the straps of his backpack. "There ain't gonna be no family pictures!"

"But Ra-aph," Mikey whined, already winding up his camera for a picture. "There aren't any pictures of all four of us together!"

"Oh, boohoo," Raph said sarcastically as he and Don walked past Mikey. "I'm almost close ta tears..."

Donnie turned to Raph with a smile as they closed in on their oldest brother, leaving Mikey behind them to take a picture of an empty clearing.

"Fine!" Mike called after them as he had took the picture. "But hear you me, by the end of this trip I'll have you on my camera!" He ran up to his brothers, wheezing for breath as he caught up to them, tired from carrying his unnecessarily heavy bag. He then quickly proceeded with his endless chattering, moving on to talking about how lucky they were with the sunny weather, having already analyzed the how blue color of the sky matched Leo's bandanna. In Mikey's own words, it reminded him of 'the calm of something great and boring'.

A few minutes later, the youngest turtle made a disturbing face, recognizing the sensation underneath his plastron. "Dudes," he called, alerting his siblings. "I think I need to pee."

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Michelangelo whined as he tried to keep up with his three older brothers, while at the same time carrying his heavy backpack in the boiling heat.

"No," Leo answered for the thirteenth time in the past two minutes. The recently so ever cheerful and positive turtle had soon transformed into the complaining pest that was dragging his dressed up feet several yards behind them.

"Are you sure?" Mikey wondered, squinting his eyes to be able to look at his brothers ahead of him. "Cuz I could really use a break. And also," he added, right after the bottomless pit in his belly roared for attention. "I'm starving! You never said anything about skipping lunch!"

"Yes, Mikey, I'm sure," Leo spoke as he walked, the map still held in his right hand in case he needed it. "And second of all, I did too tell you we wouldn't have any lunch today. We can't afford stopping, we've already lost far too much time on your toilet breaks."

"But Leooooo," Mike whined, stomping his foot on the soil in an act of spoiled desperation. "I'm really, really hungry."

"No," the oldest turtle replied from up front, trying to keep as far away from the public hiking trail as possible. They couldn't afford crossing paths with non-mutated people, which in this place of the forest, and everywhere else on earth, was a very big chance of happening.

"Can we at _least_ stop for some water?" Mike called out from the far back, his tired feet refusing to take him any longer.

"Y'know, he's right, Leo," Don added from behind his brother, causing the oldest turtle to stop and turn around. "We could all use some water if we're gonna be able to pull this off."

The leader of the journey, as well as the group, took a moment to consider this to himself. "All right," he said as he turned back to Donatello. "We'll stop for some refreshments. But that's it. We _have_ to reach the lake before it gets dark, or we won't be able to put up the tents. Besides, I'd like to get some dinner before midnight."

Don and Mike nodded while Raph casually rolled his eyes, thinking his big brother was taking this hiking thing far too long.

"I still don't get why we couldn't bring food," Raphael muttered as he took off his large backpack, putting it down in front of his feet.

"Who said we couldn't bring food?" Mike chuckled as he unzipped his bag and revealed the bag of crackers he had more or less stolen from April's larder.

"Pretending I didn't see that," Leonardo started as he brought out his bottle of water, "we wouldn't be hiking if we didn't hunt our own food."

"Yeah, but _fishin_'?" Raph insisted, shaking his head at the thought. "That's not even hunitin'." He took a few hungry sips from his bottle of water.

"Would you rather have us running around with a bow and arrow?" Donnie asked as he unscrewed the cork on his bottle, seating himself on a stump.

"Hell yeah!" Raph exclaimed, his evil features brightening up at the mere thought of sneaking up on an unsuspecting animal with that very weapon. It wasn't that he didn't like animals, because secretly - he did. But he had never hunted or killed anything in the forest, and when it was for his own survival that made it okay.

"Ugh.." Don groaned, breaking his brother's sadistic gaze. "Forget I even asked..."

"Okay," Leo said, already on his feet with his backpack strapped on. "Everyone ready to take off?" He looked down at the map in his hands. "According to my calculations, we should be two and a half hours away from the lake."

"What?" Donatello shot up from the stump and walked up to his big brother, peeking at the unfolded map. "That can't be right," he disagreed, shaking his head.

"What do you mean 'that can't be right'?" Leo frowned at the accusation. "If holding the same speed we've been travelling with, we should reach our stop in a little less then three hours." He childishly snatched the map away from his brother, claiming it for himself.

"I'm telling you, Leo," Don insisted, grabbing on to the piece of paper his older brother didn't want him to see.

Mike and Raph frowned, recognizing a pointless argument when they spotted one. This could take a while...

"You're wrong," Don continued. "We're about three and a half hours away from the lake, three fifteen at the least. Are you sure you've been reading the right map?"

Leonardo steamed up at the insult, once again snatching the map from Donnie's grasp. "Yes, Dona_tello_, I'm sure," he said, looking back to the map. "We're _here_," he said, putting his finger somewhere down by the left corner of the map.

"Uh-huh.." Donnie nodded, so far agreeing with his brother's explanation.

"And we'll be travelling down _this_ path," he slid his index finger across the map, working his way north. "Which should mean that in reaching _here_," he quickly slid his finger across the final distance and froze it right by the lake, "we're a little less than three hours away."

"Leo.." Don groaned, having caught on to his brother's dumb mistake. "We're not birds are we?" He was met with a blank expression. "I mean, sure, we have beaks like them, but as far as I remember we're still missing the wings."

"Is there some sort of point to this?" Leo asked, his eye ridges shooting up in irritation.

Donatello rolled his eyes and took the map from his brother, pointing at a funny looking circled area. "It would take us at _least _thirty minutes to walk around this mountain. So unless you plan for us to grow wings and fly over it, there's no chance we'll reach the lake in less than three hours."

"That's a _mountain_?" Leo muttered to himself, looking closer at the map as if the mountain would transform into something else at a closer distance.

"Yeah, and a big one, at that," Don confirmed, finally letting go of the map.

"I thought that was just open ground," the oldest explained and pointed at a different part of the map. "Like this one here."

Don bent closer to the piece of paper. "That's a swamp," he said, embarrassing his big brother even more.

Raphael and Mike snickered at their oldest brother's expense, not being able to enjoy that many moments of Leonardo failing at something.

"All right," Leo said as he snatched the map away from Don's reach. "So we'll be there in a little _more_ than three hours. Point is, get your stuff; 'cause we're leaving." He then strolled ahead of his siblings, turning over to the back of the map the read the explanations of the signs properly.

Donnie walked over to his bag, strapping it onto his back as he exchanged a smile with his other two brothers, enjoying the feeling of being right all the time. Okay, so maybe not _all_ the time, but most of the time. Or at least _this_ time.

* * *

Raphael viciously squashed a mushroom that had been unlucky enough to get in the way of his foot as he stomped behind his purple clad brother, who apparently seemed to have some problem with the bag attached to his foot. It was slipping off and the annoying sound of the air in the bag blowing out from the top of it every time the plastic bag touched the ground, was beginning to really get to him.

_Pluuuush_

_Pluuuush_

_Pluuuush_

_Pluh-pluuuush_

He angrily tightened his fists when his brother stumbled over some root, quickly picking up the pace once again. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Fix that stupid bag, will ya!" he outburst, causing the Noisy Walk of the Bag to come to a haltered stop.

"My bag?" Donatello turned around, a little shocked at the sudden tantrum. He hadn't seen that coming.

"Can'cha feel it's almost comin' off yer ugly foot?" The red glad turtle asked, irritation visible in both his voice and eyes.

"Oh," Donnie realized, bending down to tightened the yellow bag around his foot.

Raphael angrily stomped past him, quickly reaching up to the oldest turtle, while the youngest stopped in front of his injured brother, Mr. Gaffy all set on his right hand.

"A little lazy with the knot, are we Mr. Limpfoot?" he mocked his brother, using his Mr. Gaffy's girly voice.

Don looked up at his younger brother with a ticked look on his face. "You should teach Mr. Giraffe not to pick on those that are down." He quickly returned to working on the bag.

"It's Mr. _Gaffy_," the oven mitt answered, sounding a little offended. "And if there is anyone that needs to learn something, I think it's _you_, Mr. Limpfoot. I could teach you the proper knot, so that bag won't slip off your unfortunate foot." Mike paused and returned to his normal voice, turning to look at the tiny friend attached to his right hand. "How very nice of you, Mr. Gaffy. Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

"Yeah," Donatello replied as he rose to his feet, having tied a perfectly good knot without the mitten's help. "Be quiet. Ever since you brought out that thing from your bag, it's been chattering like crazy. If you won't do anything about it, I'll team up with Raph and quiet it myself."

Michelangelo gasped, holding his free hand over the giraffe's ears. "Not in front of Mr. Gaffy," he whispered, slowly taking off his hand.

Don simply shook his head and walked after his brothers, knowing when to pick his battles. After all, he wouldn't want to end up having to apologize to a kitchen supply.

Up front Leo was re-checking some map-signs, just in case Don challenged him to another 'I know I'm right' battle. But with the pace they were keeping, even with Mikey's never-ending need to pee, it seemed they would reach their goal a little earlier than Don had foreseen, which even if it was a small consolation, delighted Leo very much.

Just as he felt his mood swinging back to happy, a disturbing voice called out from the back.

"Dudes, I hafta go!"

_"Again?"_ Raph outburst as all three of them froze in their steps. He angrily turned around to his younger brother, who was still pretty far behind.

"Sorry!" Mike lazily apoligzed as he took off into the bushes to do his number one, and hopefully leaving out number two this time. After all, how many times could a person crap during one day?

Raph shared an impatient look with Leo, who was stomping his foot with the map in his hands. "Is he on some kinda drug or somethin'?" Raphael wondered.

Leo simply shook his head, not in the mood to answer even if he could.

Donnie and his noisy bag caught up with Leo and Raph, who angrily glared at the yellow piece of plastic tied around his foot. "What?" the purple masked turtle exclaimed, claiming innocence to the accusations he got from Raphael's eyes. "I fixed the bag."

"'Parenlty not good enough," the turtle know as Mr. Grumpy added, turning back to Leo, who looked as if he was about to freak, seeing how often he checked the watch on his wrist. Raph wasn't even aware he had one. He shrugged and turned back to Donnie, finding another watch attached to _his_ left wrist. The turtle muttered something to himself before he turned looking for his youngest brother, wondering how long it could take for a guy to do his business. "You done yet!" he called out to the orange masked turtle.

Mike jumped out from the bush and back onto the barley visible path they were walking on. "Don't freak. When a dude's gotta go, he's gotta go." He quickly ran up to the others, making sure the mitten was still on his hand.

Leo released a sigh before he started walking again, upset over losing time to his leaking baby brother.

"How old _is_ yer bladder, anyway?" Raphael asked as he quickly adjusted his backpack and followed Leonardo.

"Wha-at?" Mikey smiled, practically stepping Donatello on his heels as he walked. "I can't _not_ pee when I drink that much water."

"So why drink it, then?" Donnie joined in on the childish bickering.

"Cuz I'm thirsty!" Michelangelo explained the obvious. "Duuuh!"

Donatello and Raphael shared irritated glances with each other, both of them speeding up their pace a little.

"So," Mikey pretended the knitted giraffe said, as he hurried to keep up with them. "Are we there yet?"


	4. So, which thingy goes where?

**Chapter 4 - "So, which thingy goes where?"**

Leonardo tiredly stepped over another root, careful not to trip on it. He was in a bad mood. It turned out Don had been right. It had been three hours since they argued about the map, meaning their chance of reaching the lake in _less_ than three hours had just turned into slim and none. No wait, skip the part about slim. Just none. However, according to the map, they would reach the lake very soon. So if it hadn't been for Michelangelo's shrunken bladder they might've made his deadline.

Suddenly, one of Leo's senses caught on to something all four turtles would consider as good news.

Ducks.

He could hear several ducks up front, which should mean that only a few yards up ahead laid their precious lake, the one they had been searching for ever since leaving home this morning. Leo turned back to the map, discovering that the crowded forest ended a few yards up ahead and that from there, it was downhill, and then - the lake.

Leo stopped in his tracks and turned around to the others. "Guys?" he called, a proud smile stretching his lips. "We made it."

"We what?" Raphael asked as he stepped up to his brother, having only walked a few feet behind him.

"We've reached the lake. You'll be able to see it from there," the oldest turtle revealed and pointed up ahead, where the forest appeared to end.

"Al_ready_?" Donatello asked and caught up to them, peeking down at the map.

A proud Leonardo handed it over to him, only now allowing him to look at it.

"I thought we wouldn't get there for another twenty minutes," Don said, his eyes locked on the map in his hands. "Hmph.. We must've walked faster than I thought."

"_Or_," Leo said confidently, claiming the map to himself again. "I was right and you were wrong."

"I wouldn't go that far," Donatello quickly disagreed, glancing at his watch. "It's been more than three hours since we stopped. You said we'd get here in _less_ than three hours."

"You said it would take _more_ than three hours," Leo argued.

"It _has_ been more than three hours," Donnie tiredly reminded him.

"Barely," Leo snorted, walking ahead of his siblings. "Get Mikey, will you?"

"Yeah.." Raph and Don muttered in chorus, none of them wanting to take the job, since Mike was still far behind.

"Paper, rock, scissors?" Donatello suggested, turning to look at his older brother.

Raphael took on the challenge, holding up his fist for the first round.

_1, 2, 3..._

"Crud," Raph muttered as Don beat his rock with paper.

_1, 2, 3..._

"The hell?" the red masked turtle exclaimed, fearing the end was near once the identical scenario played out.

The two of them locked their eyes with each other, Donatello's never breaking down to Raph's fierce stare, holding his gaze once they rose their fists for what could be their last round of paper, rock, scissors. The scene played out in slow motion.

_1... 2... 3..._

"Noooooooooo..." Raphael dramatically cried, his scissors losing to Donnie's rock. And then their lives quickly returned to its normal speed, a smug Don grinning at his brother.

"Though luck," he said, patting his brother on the shoulder before he turned around and followed Leo to the lake.

"Damn," Raph muttered to himself, casting his purple masked brother one last glare before he set off to get Mikey.

Who knew how far behind the guy was? The youngest turtle had a tendency to lose focus and get caught up in other things, this time stopping every third step to take a picture of something. Finally, his brothers got tired of stopping and allowed the little paparazzi devil to drive his own race.

* * *

Leonardo and Donatello were standing on the top of the hill, looking out over the lake they had been searching for all day.

"You think the water's cold?" Leo asked, never breaking his gaze from the sight.

"Would that be so bad?" Don said, referring to the heat they had been walking in all day.

Leo shrugged his shoulders and turned to look at his brother. "We should find our camp for the night," he said, grabbing the straps of his backpack and starting to make his way down, using his ninja balance to stay on his feet.

Donnie followed his example and jogged behind him, the two of them joining some unofficial competition on who would reach the bottom first. Once Leo realized Don was right on his tail he sped up his pace, causing his brother to do the same. By the time Leo reached the end of the hill, he had to make an urgent break to be able to stop, only a few feet in front of the ditch that encircled the lake.

"I won!" Leo cried, his entire face gleaming with the rush of victory.

A panting Donatello caught up behind him, bending over to catch his breath. "What are you talking about?" he wheezed, no air left in his lungs. "I wasn't even competing." He desperately tried to get a hold of his breathing again.

The blue masked turtle turned to his little brother with an unimpressed look, recognizing a terrible loser when he spotted one. "Yeah okay," he said sarcastically, patting his defeated sibling on the shell. "Whatever makes you feel better, Don." He then walked along the lake, trying to find a place big and flat enough to fit two tents, while at the same time not located directly beside the lake. Being humanoid turtles, the four of them really needed their privacy. The forest began to pick up again, a new flock of trees building up in front of him.

After filling up his lungs with air again, Don caught up with his brother and joined him among the trees, searching for tonight's camp.

"How about that place over there?" Donnie suggested, pointing to a spot that could fit two, perhaps three tents of their size.

"I don't know," Leo said, shaking his head in hesitation. "What if it rains? Looks like it could easily fill up with water."

"Okay," Don said, biting his bottom lip. "So what about over there?"

"Yeah but, look at all those cones," Leo pointed out. "Would be too uncomfortable to sleep on."

"So we get rid of the cones," Donatello said, shaking his head. "Geeze, Leo, it's not the end of the world."

"I don't know..." Leo trailed, taking a moment to think about it.

"Oh, c'mon," Donnie pushed, nudging his brother with his elbow. "This place is as good as any. And besides, I need to bandaid my foot. The bag's leaking."

Leonardo glanced down at his brother's foot, discovering the shredded bag on it. The color had turned from fierce yellow to bleached yellow. "Okay, well, we better start getting rid of those cones, then."

Don gave Leo a victorious pat on the shoulder before he took off his backpack and went over to sweep away the cones with his healthy foot.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, they were still sweeping cones as Michelangelo and Raphael came walking, Mike still carrying his knitted friend on his hand, while protectively holding his disposable camera in the other.

Leo took a pause in his sweeping and looked up at his siblings. "Wow, sure took you long enough to get back," he said, kicking away another cone with his foot.

"Yeah well, ye rememba' that gigantic anthill we passed?" Raph asked, setting his heavy bag down before him.

"Yeah?" Leo said, not looking up from his sweeping.

"I found 'im takin' pictures of the damn thing," Raph explained, sending Mike an irritated glance at the memory.

"What?" Leo exclaimed and looked up at his red masked brother. "All the way over _there_? That's like twenty minutes back."

Don quietly continued with the sweeping while Leo turned to Mike for answers.

"Wha-at?" Mike shrugged, reaching back to remove his backpack. "That thing was huge. I had to have it on camera." He set his backpack down beside him as his eyes started to glow with enthusiasm. "Just wait till they're developed! I got some really cool close-ups of the ants. But they came at a price." He glanced down at his green, swollen ankles, where tons of ants had bitten him.

"That's it," Donnie suddenly said, earning everyone's attention. "I'm done. I don't wanna see another cone in my entire life."

"But--" Leo tried to interject.

"No, Leo," Donatello firmly interrupted him. "I don't _care_ if sleeping on them will ruin my back. I don't _care_ if I'll regret this in the morning. There's just too many of them. They're everywhere!" He hysterically pointed around himself, a panicked look on his face.

"Okay, take a deep breath," Leo instructed, carefully holding out his arms to calm his brother. "We'll get rid of the rest while you just sit and take care of your foot. Okay?"

Don still breathed heavy from his outburst, his plastron rising up and down with his breath. "Okay," he finally said, limping over to a stump to seat himself. He tenderly lifted up his bagged foot in his lap and untied the shredded bag, rubbing his sore foot in relief. "Aaaaahhh..." he moaned, his features melting with pleasure.

"Okay," the oldest turtle said, turning back to his two brothers, who were still stunned from Don's resent outburst. "Start sweeping cones so we'll be able to put up the tents."

The two turtles groaned as they walked up to Leo to give him a hand, or perhaps that would be a foot? After only a few minutes of kicking away cones, Mike started to feel bored. A small Mikey-devil popped up out of nowhere on his shoulder, whispering something evil to Mike, who lit up at the idea. It seemed like his shoulder angel had overslept, since the little devil saluted Mike and disappeared in a cloud of smoke without further notice, leaving Mike to execute the plan all on his own.

He carefully aimed at an unsuspecting Raphael before he kicked the cone like a football, sending it to collide with his older brother's rear.

"The hell!" Raph cried, jumping at the sudden smack on his butt. He tentatively caressed himself as he turned around, discovering a snickering baby brother about to kick another cone at him. Raph quickly joined the game and kicked a cone lying before his feet, sending it onto Mike's thigh, causing the turtle to clutch it in pain.

"Ow!" he whined, caressing his leg. "Why'd you always have to shoot so hard, Raph?"

"I don't," Raph disagreed, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Yer the one who's weak."

Mike gasped at the insult, kicking another cone at his brother, only leading to Raph kicking one at him. This went on for a while, each turtle clutching various body parts at the painful impact, several bruises taking form on their green skin.

"Okay, that's enough," Leo finally said, barely dodging a cone that was meant for Raph. "This isn't helping anything."

"Um, Leo," Don piped from the stump, where he had just bandaid his foot. "It think it is." He pointed out over the area, proving that the Attack of the Cones had in fact cleansed the ground of cones, leaving only bare grass in its place.

"Oh," Leo said, scratching himself on the back of his head. "Well, lets put up the tents, then. Donnie, you good to go?" he asked, turning to his injured brother.

"Yeah," Don said, having just tied on another bag on his foot, this time a slime green one.

"I call this spot!" Mike chirped, jumping on the ground where he stood.

Raphael grunted and reached inside his backpack for the tent he had been selected to carry, pulling out the brown bag from the very bottom of his backpack. Michelangelo quickly joined him at his side, his eyes wide as Raph untied the knot to pull out the apparently baby-blue tent from its bag.

"Ooooooooh," he said with amazement, touching the slippery fabric of the tent. "Feel it, Raph." He then turned over to the other two, who were busy untying the brown bag containing _their_ tent. "I bet your tent isn't as cool as ours."

Leo pulled out an identical tent to theirs, shutting Mike up instantly.

"Okay," Leo said, having found the manual to the tent. "There should be two iron poles in the bag," he started, looking over the instructions.

"Yeah," Don confirmed, grabbing the two brass colored poles

"Right." Leo nodded, noticing the poles his brother held. He quickly turned back to the paper in his hands. "There should also be a bag of tent-pegs."

Don quickly found the blue bag and held it up for his brother to see. "I'm guessing it's a blue bag," he stated the obvious, opening it to see if the tent-pegs were inside, which fortunately they were.

"Okay," Leo said, rising to his feet while keeping his eyes on the paper. "Unfold the tent so that the waterproof bottom is facing the ground."

Donatello easily did as he was told, keeping the black bottom towards the ground while rolling out the shiny blue tent.

"Alright." Leo nodded and turned back to the instructions. "Attach six of the tent-pegs to the bottom of the tent. Stretch the fabric to its outmost possible before hammering the pegs into the ground."

"Hammer them?" Donnie questioned, taking six of the pegs in his hand. "With what?"

"I don't know," Leo replied, looking over the instructions again. "It doesn't say. Just use a rock or something," he suggested.

Don nodded and searched the ground for a rock, finding one half buried next to him. He tried to lift it from its place only to find out that it was stuck. So using both his hands, Don determinedly dug through the soil, causing more and more of the fist sized rock to surface. Finally, he was able to pull it out of its pit and held it up victoriously for Leo to see.

Leo didn't seem very impressed by the accomplishment and simply turned back to his paper, re-reading the instructions to his younger sibling. "Stretch the tent to its outmost possible before hammering the pegs into the ground." He talked really slow, as if Don wouldn't understand him unless he did.

Donnie rolled his eyes and took a hold of the first peg, sliding it through the loop of the tent, before using the rock to hammer it down into the ground. "Okay," he said, brushing of his palms on his thighs. "What now?"

Leonardo turned back to the manual. "Um... At.. atta... attack? Attach!"

"What's the matter?" Don asked, furrowing his eye ridges. "Can't you read?"

"No, it's just.." Leo lowered his face to the paper. "Someone's spilled coffee on this thing. Half of the instructions are all blurry. I can't make it out." Leo felt panic rising within him, not being able to read the following sentence. "My god," he breathed, looking up at his purple masked brother. "I don't know what to do!"

"So we'll improvise," Don shrugged, grabbing the two poles lying next to him.

"Improvise?" Leo repeated, as if he had never heard of the word. "Have you ever set up a tent before?"

"Well, no," Don admitted, looking over the three feet long poles. "But how hard can it be? C'mon, Leo. I installed our hot tub when I was ten. This is not a big deal."

Back over at the other team, Raph was pushing the tent-pegs into the ground, using only his hands. Meanwhile, Mikey pretended Mr. Gaffy was reading the instructions, irritating his brother to the max. "Oh you better hurry up there, Mr. Grumpy. Team 'Idiots' are moving on to the poles."

"So ditch the sock and help out," Raph said, speaking through clenched teeth.

"Mr. _Gaffy_," Mikey corrected, a little upset at his brother for still not using the proper name for his friend. "Not sock. G-A-F-F-Y. As in: short for giraffe, okay?"

Raph angrily threw a tent-peg at his little brother, who instantly grabbed onto his upper arm, rubbing one of his many bruises.

"Okay, okay," Mike surrendered, sitting down beside Raph and taking off the oven mitt. "So what do you want me to do?" He tucked the mitten into his belt.

"How about gettin' rid of those stupid instructions an' rise this tent," Raph suggested, moving on to the two tent-poles, searching the blue fabric for the loops they were supposed to go through.

"Okay," Mike said, emptying the blue bag on all the tent-pegs, pouring them out onto the grass. "So, which thingy goes where?" He lifted up one of the pegs and looked at it, twisting and twirling it between his fingers.

"If ya don't pick those things up, they'll go right up yer ass," Raphael threatened, having discovered the pile of tent-pegs. He then grabbed a tent pole and slid it through the upper loop of the tent, attaching it by the bottom as well. "Hold this," he ordered, leaving the finished pole to Mike while he moved in to the back of the tent, doing the same thing with the second pole. When rising the final tent-pole, the triangular shape of the blue tent began to reveal itself - a ridge tent.

"What a major bummer," Mikey commented, holding one of the poles while Raph stretched the fabric of the tent, attaching it to the ground with another peg.

"What now?" Raph grunted, pushing the peg into the ground with his hand.

"It's not an Eskimo tent," Michelangelo complained, pouting his bottom lip. "I thought they'd be Eskimo tents. Then we'd be like 'Ice Climber.' Well, except for the giant red bird.. and that scary polo bear that drops by every once in a while. What's up with that, anyway?"

"They're not called Eskimo tents," Raph slowly corrected, shoving down another peg into the ground. "They're called dome tents."

"Dome schmome," Mike shrugged, when suddenly realizing something. "Wait? How do _you_ know so much about tents?"

Raph froze in his position, knowing he had said far too much. But after reading all those hiking magazines Casey secretly ordered, the words just slipped out of him. "Juz do yer job and keep the pole straight, a'right?" He quickly grabbed another tent-peg, pulling on the fabric of the tent to keep it stretched.

Mike mutely returned to holding the tent-pole, promising himself to look deeper into his brother's odd tent-expertise later.

Meanwhile, by the other tent, Leo was completely freaking out about the manual, even though Don seemed to handle things without it. The oldest brother frantically tried to make out the blurry words on the paper, holding it up towards the sun to be able to read it.

"A little help?" Don asked, trying to hammer another tent-peg into the ground, while at the same time holding the pole with his other hand. "Leo?" he questioned, finally earning his brother's attention. "Hold this, will ya?"

"Right," Leo said, dropping the paper to the ground and kneeling down next to his brother, holding onto the tent-pole, while Don focused on hammering down the pegs. "You're _sure_ this is right?" Leo questioned, comparing their tent to Raph and Mike's, who seemed almost finished.

Donnie sent the other tent a glance before turning back to Leo to answer him. "Yes, I'm sure," he said, a little irritated his brothers were doing better with their tent. "They've just gotten further than us, is all. After we've gotten these tent-cords nailed to the ground, our tent will look just like theirs."

"Mikey!" Raph's voice suddenly interrupted them.

Leo and Don quickly turned their attention to the opposite team, discovering a shaky Mike hiding behind the other end of the tent.

"You _lost_ a peg! I told ya ta put 'em back inside the bag!" the furious turtle rose to his feet, his shadow hovering over a scared Michelangelo, trying to disappear behind the tent.

"Well, maybe it isn't lost. Maybe ya just haven't found it yet," he carefully suggested.

"_You_ find it, then!" Raph said, stomping off into the forest.

Mike turned to look at his two brothers, who just shrugged and returned to putting up their tent, using Raphael's absence to gain on them in the Tent Rising Contest. So Mikey started to crawl around in the grass, trying to find the missing tent-peg, knowing their tent had to be up before Raph got back from... wherever he went off to.

Donatello quickly pulled Leo closer to him, using the precious time they had while Mike was crawling in the grass. "Okay, here's the thing," he whispered, keeping his eyes on Michelangelo. "We have to finish this before Mikey finds that peg. So get yourself a rock and help me hammer these pegs into the ground."

Leo was a little surprised by his younger brother's competitive attitude. Nonetheless, he did as he was told and picked up a rock from the ground, helping out with the hammering, while during this keeping one watchful eye on Mikey, still crawling in the grass for the missing tent-peg.

Don and Leo's sudden rise of pace didn't go unnoticed to Mike, who realized he wasn't going to find the lost peg. Instead, he found something that would have to work as a replacement - a stick. He quickly grabbed it and broke off the tip. With a little stubbornness he managed to bore the stick into the ground, attaching the final loop of the tent to it.

"Taaaa-daaah!" he proudly rose to his feet and pointed at the finished tent, enjoying the looks of defeat his two brothers had. "Looks like we won. Or more importantly," he quickly added, a smug smile curving his lips. "You lost."

"This isn't a competition," Don wasn't late to point out, pretending he wasn't bothered by the fact that his team lost.

"Whatever, dude," Mike said, a pleased grin decorating his green face. "You're just pissed you lost."

* * *

After both tents were up and Raph had returned from his little anger management trip, Mike and Donnie were digging for angling-worms, using a small spoon Don had packed. Donnie tiredly dug with the spoon, trying not to think about the fact that the soil was really nothing but worm faeces.

"Wait," Mike cried, putting his hand on Don's to stop him from digging. "There's one!"

Donatello quickly detected the little string that immediately slipped back into the loose soil. He carefully dug around it, to avoid slaughtering the worm, resulting in the tail of the little guy to surface. Mike instantly grabbed into the worm and pulled it out of its hiding, adding it to the resent collection in the bucket.

"Okay, so how many do we have?" Don asked, wiping off his beak with the back of his hand.

"Um," Mike trailed, taking a moment to count them. "Five."

_"Five?"_ Don cried, having expected a much larger number.

"Yeah," Mikey confirmed. "Well, six, if ya count the poor guy you cut in half."

"_Accidentally_ cut in half," Donnie corrected his little brother, feeling a little guilty about the incident.

"Yeah, whatever," Mikey shrugged. "Point is, we need a whole lot more of these things if we plan on having dinner, which, by the way, I totally do."

"We're supposed to meet the others by the lake in.." Don took a moment to check his watch. "Ten minutes! We'll never make ten worms by then." He started to feel a bit hostile towards Leonardo, who gave them the minimum number before they left.

"Unless..." Mike said, a wicked grin stretching his lips.

"Unless what?" Donatello wondered, not quite following his brother's train of thought.

Mike miscevously glanced at the bucket, the glint in his eyes revealing his evil plan.

"No," Don said, shaking his head in dissagreement. "Oh no! We're not cutting them in half, Mikey!"

"What?" the orange masked turtle shrugged. "You did it before."

"_Acci-dentally_," Don strongly reminded him, not wanting him to bring that up again.

"Yeah, but so what? They'll die anyway when the fish eats 'em. Or," he then added, having thought of another possible death for the five worms. "They'll drown in the lake, unless of course they bleed to death from the hook wound."

"Okay, fine. I get it - they'll die," Don said, not wanting his little brother to paint him anymore mental pictures. "But that's still no reason for us to torture them."

"Okay, but hooking them, drowning them and feeding them to sea-monsters is totally fine," Michelangelo pointed out, taking the lead in their argument.

"Fine, you win," Donatello gave in, dropping the spoon to the ground. "But I'm not doing it. If you wanna chop 'em off, you do it yourself."

"All right," Mike said, immediately reaching inside the bucket for victim number one, pulling it apart at the middle. He quickly repeated the procedure with the rest, even though some of them did their best to escape his green hands. "There. That's ten worms at your service." He held out the bucket to Donnie, who quickly turned away from the crime scene, not wanting to be any part of the killing.

"Let's just go," he said, picking up the spoon and rising to his feet.

"You know, they'll go to a much better place," Mikey called after him as he got up from the ground. "I've heard worm heaven is a lot like turtle heaven. Except for eating endless amounts of pizzas, they eat leaves." The youngest turtle jogged to keep up with his brother.

* * *

_"Meet George Jetson. Dee didi dee didididdididididi.. His son ELROY! Dee didi dee didididididididididi... Daughter JUDY! Dee didi dee didididididididididi.. JANE, HIS WI--"_

"Would ya stop with the singin' already!" Raphael angrily ordered, taking a new grip of his fishing rod.

"Thanks," Don praised his red masked brother for ending the unbearable noise of Michelangelo's voice. The peaceful silence by the lake soon came over the four fishing turtles, each of them holding a fishing rod in their grip, where they sat on a steep rock by the water.

"So.." Mike said after a while, carefully starting up another conversation. "Anyone's up for 'Pass the pizza'?"

"Pass the what?" Donatello asked, turning to look at the turtle on his right.

"The pizza," Mike repeated. "You don't remember 'Pass the Pizza?'" He was met with blank faces. "Back when we were kids.." Still no reaction from his brothers. "You know, 'Paaass the pizza'." He stubbornly tried to knock some memory into his siblings. "C'mon! 'Pass the pizz--"

"We don't rememba, a'right!" Raph outburst, causing Mike to fall silent again, although only for a short while, of course.

"Naaah, deep inside you still remember," Mikey insisted, waving off Raphael's hostile answer. "You know, where I say, 'Pass the pizza.' And then you say, 'What toppings do you want?'" He then fell silent, waiting for one of his brother to say that very thing. "Dudes?"

"I ain't plain' yer stupid game," Raph insisted, keeping his eyes on the lake.

"What about you, Leo?" His oldest brother did a very good job of ignoring him. "C'mon, just ask me." Mike pleadingly turned to his final brother. "Donnie?"

Donatello glanced at his little brother, instantly looking away from the puppy dog eyes he was met with.

"Please?" Mikey pleaded, searching for eye contact.

"All right, fine!" Don surrendured. "What toppings do you want?" There was an obvious lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

"Apples!" Mike exclaimed, causing all three of his brothers to twist their faces in disgust.

"What? Have ya gone nuts?" Raphael asked, his stomach twisting at the would be taste of such a pizza.

"No," Mike quickly replied. "It's an alphabet game. Next time I ask you what _you_ want on your pizza, you have to remember what I said and add something on the letter B." Raphael didn't seem up for the game. "Like bananas," Mikey suggested, playing against himself. "Or broccoli."

"You know what," Leo interrupted Mikey's rambling. "You talking like this is scaring the fish and frankly, you're beginning to scare me, too. Broccoli?" He looked at his youngest brother with a disgusted expression "I actually _like_ pizza, remember? So would you do as all a favor and stop listing gross things to put on it."

"Well, excuse _me_ for trying to put a little sprinkle on the evening," Michelangelo answered, looking out over the lake, ignoring his oldest brother.

Raphael reached inside the bucket for another worm, after the first one mysteriously passed away on the hook, none of the fish wanting to eat the corpse. "Y'know," he said, lifting the oddly short worm between his index finger and thumb. "I thought worms were supposed ta be all twitchy and slippery. These things are practically already dead. Wha'dya do to 'em?"

"Nothing," Mike said, dipping his sinker into the water. "Must be because of the heat. Right , Donnie?" He turned to the turtle sitting next to him, staring at his read/white float.

"Right.." he mumbled, his chin buried in his palm.

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Leo said, having caught a big perch a short while ago. "They seem to work just fine."

"You caught _one_ fish, Leo," Don strongly pointed out. "For all we know, it couldn've been beginner's luck. Or fluke."

"Wait! I think I've got something!" Leo cried, his face brightening up as his float went under. "It's a big one!" He declared, the tip of his fishing-rod bending at the weight. "And strong," he soon added. "Wow, this one makes the other fish look like a... well, like your fish," he finished, sending Don a mocking glance.

Donatello looked at the dead fish lying next to him, reaching up to almost four inches from its tip to its tail. "Yeah, well, I got the first one, didn't I?"

"That's right, bro," Mike said, putting a comforting arm around his brother. "You stand up for your fish. Even if the size _does_ matter."

Leonardo ignored his siblings as he rose to his feet, slowly pulling the fish closer to the surface, until finally a large splash revealed the monstrous size of their future dinner. "Oh my God!" Leo exclaimed, casting a quick glance at his three shocked brothers. "Did you see that?"

"I did," Mike lit up, rising to his feet and walking up to his oldest brother. "You caught Nessie!"

"Who?" Raph questioned, fearing it might be a nickname for another sock.

"Nessie," Mike explained. "The Loch Ness monster. Dude, don't know anything?"

"You _do_ know we're not in Britain, right?" Don questioned, sending his little brother a tired look.

However, their bickering was quickly interrupted as Leo pulled up the gigantic fish out of the water, revealing a monster - an eight pound walleye.

"Sweet pepperoni, that's a giant fish!" Mike exclaimed, his eyes wide at the sight of the huge fish hanging off of Leo's fishing rod.

"Mike, the bag net!" Leo cried, trying to keep the fish above the water.

"Right!" Mike nodded, immediately grabbing the beg net by his feet and reaching out for the fish.

Leonardo carefully lifted the fish towards the net, barely getting the struggling animal inside it. Mikey quickly brought the fish to land, holding up the bag net in front of him, staring at the creature in amazement. "Man, that's ugly," he said, making a disgusted face. "I bet it taste great, though." He flashed his brothers a grin, before Leo proudly claimed the bag net.

"It's beautiful," Leo said, trying to hold eye contact with the fish. "You wanna do the honors, Raph?" He asked, not wanting to kill the gorgeous creature himself.

Raphael instantly lit up, grabbing a sai from his belt and rising to his feet.

"No, no," Leo forbid, shaking his head at his brother. "Use the knife. There'll be no sais slicing this beauty."

"Geeze, Leo," Raph mumbled, reaching for the army knife inside the backpack they brought. "Ya want us ta leave the two of ya alone?"

"Are you helping me or not?" Leo asked, not finding the joke very funny.

Raph grinned and walked up to his brother, who lowered the bag net to the ground, keeping the net around the fish so it wouldn't escape. With a quick stab, Raph stung the knife into its head, causing the fish to break out into death-throes.

"Wow, Raph," Mikey commented, seating himself next to his two brothers to study the dead fish. "You look like you've done this before. I mean, first the thing about dome tents and now this? What kinda secret are ya keeping from us?" He chuckled a little, causing Raph to glare at him.

"A knife ta the head usually kills," Raph grimly informed, staring at the orange masked turtle. "But since yer not sure, we can always try it on you."

"So," Mikey said, clapping his hands together and looking at the others. "Head back, shall we?"


	5. You think you've got what it takes?

**Chapter 5 - "You think you've got what it takes?"**

Donatello added another rock to the work of art he and Leo had built together. They were building a wall around their soon to be log-fire, and all they were missing now were the logs, which Mike and Raph had set off to gather. Don placed another rock on top of the wall, making sure it was properly stuck.

Meanwhile, on Leo's side of the wall, the oldest turtle carefully placed a piece of rock on another one, trying to balance it gracefully.

"Leo," Don began, watching his sibling with a puzzled look on his face. "Don'cha think it--"

"Scchhh!" Leonardo hushed him, carefully letting go of the rock to allow it to balance on its own, as if he was building a house of cards. "Woila!" he exclaimed, revealing his flawless side of the wall, where every piece of rock fit together with the others as if they were all pieces of the same puzzel. When stealing a glance at Donatello's side of the world, Leo's eye ridges furrowed in disapproval. He immediately scooted over to his brother, moving in in front of him to correct whatever mistake he had made in his building of the wall.

"Leo, c'mon," Donnie sighed, shaking his head at the blue clad perfectionist. "It's strong and steady. We're building this for a log-fire, not the Queen of England."

"That's still no reason to scamp," Leo insisted, rearranging everything Donatello had built, making sure the darker rocks stayed at the bottom, while he placed the brighter ones on top, matching his side of the wall. "I mean look at this!" he shrieked, pointing to the rocky surface of the wall. " It's completely uneven, not to mention unattractive."

"Oh no," Don lazily said, a look of plain boredom on his face. "I must be punished for my crime of fashion."

"It's not about fashion," Leo lectured, turning to look at his purple masked sibling. "It's about doing your best with what you have. _This_," he said, pointing to Don's side of the wall, "is not your best, Donnie. I've watched you build refrigerators. You can do much better than this."

"Leo, I re_pair_ refrigerators," Donatello corrected him." It's not like I build them from scratch. Even _I_ don't have that kind of patience. Besides, I don't see what our fridge has anything to do with you always needing everything to be perfect."

Leo's eye ridges shot up at the insult, gaping at his brother.

"This wall is about you and _your_ issues," Don continued, "not my handy skills."

"That's not true," Leonardo disagreed, childishly crossing his arms.

"No?" Don questioned, preparing a mental list in his head. "Then how come you always turn off the TV on channel one, so that when turning it on it'll start back up from the beginning. Or how come you cut off the tiny pieces of cheese that reach outside of your toast, or never eat the crust, for that matter. Hmm?"

"It's a proven fact that burned toast causes cancer," Leo argued, defensively pointing at his brother.

"Okay," Don nodded, letting that one slip. "But how do you explain your obsessive need to always flatten the covers of your bed?"

"_Every_one does that," Leo waved off Don's accusation.

"While they're _in_ them?" Don wondered, raising one of his eye ridges.

"Okay," Leo surrendered, rolling his eyes. "So I can't sleep in a wrinkled bed. That still doesn't prove anything."

"All right," Donnie said, taking a moment to think of a good reason as to why Leo was an obsessive perfectionist. He suddenly lit up with pleasure, a mischievous smile taking form on his lips. "What about our toothbrushes?"

"What about them?" Leo asked, trying to look nonchalant.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," Donnie said, still smiling. "What? You expect me to believe it's _Mikey_ who's always lining them up, according to their colors?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Leo insisted, trying to keep his face stern.

"You don't?" Don questioned, leaning in closer. "So then, this order doesn't ring any bells to you? Blue, green, yellow, orange, red..."

Leo's features remained strict, not moving so much as a muscle.

"What if I decided to move them around?" Don suggested, determined on breaking his older brother. "Like, let's say I for some reason placed the orange toothbrush in-between the blue and the green one?"

"Why would you do that?" Leo asked, his skin beginning to crawl at the very thought of it.

"No reason," Don replied, quickly moving on with his torture. "Or, just hypothetically, let's say I decided the red toothbrush would go much better on the other end, next to the blue one."

Leonardo nervously began to fiddle with his fingers, trying to remain in control. He even went as far as using some of his meditation techniques, just to keep him from screaming out loud.

Don's smile grew wider as he realized his brother's breaking point was near. He decided to take a different approach. "Or, let's skip the part about the toothbrushes and move on to," he paused for dramatic effect, " the Toothpaste."

Leo fearfully bit his lip, frightened of what his brother might say.

"Let's say, hypothetically, of course," Donnie hastily added. "But let's _say_ I drop some toothpaste in the sink when brushing my teeth, and, for some mad reason, decide not to clean it up, so that when it's _your_ turn to brush your teeth, the smudge is all stuck to the porcelain, meaning you have to use your own toothbrush to bend it off."

Leo's left eye started to twitch uncontrollably, yet he didn't say a word.

"And after that," Donnie continued, smelling his victory to come. "No matter _how_ carefully you cleaned your toothbrush, some of my oral bacteria will always remain on it. Clinging onto the straws of the very brush you clean your own teeth wi--"

"Okay, okay! Stop!" Leo cried, putting his hands over his ears. "I can't take it anymore!"

"So you admit it?" Donatello wondered, his victorious smile taking up the most of his face.

"Fine, I'm a perfectionist," Leo surrendered. "I don't care. Just please don't talk about my toothbrush." He desperately tried to get rid of the goose bumps on his arms, obsessively rubbing them with his hands.

"Deal," Don said, getting up from the ground. "You'll leave my rocks alone then?" he asked, looking down at his older brother where he still sat, frozen with fear.

"Yes, I won't touch them," Leo promised, wiping his sweaty forehead. "I swear."

Don felt satisfied with the answer and walked over to their tent, crawling inside to roll out his sleeping bag, while still smiling happily. He rarely won any battles over Leo. But on this trip, he could count as much as _two_ whole victories.

_Yes, it's shaping up to be a pretty good trip_, he thought to himself, where he stood on all four inside the tent. _A good trip, indeed._

* * *

Leo desperately tried force some life into their fire, persistently using the tent-instructions to wave at the fire, the rest of his brothers staring at the weak glow in boredom. Finally, after Leo had waved both himself and the rest of them to the point of exhaustion, Raph said what they were all thinking.

"It's not workin'."

"Sure it is," Leo insisted, grabbing the manual with his other hand to bring some force into the waving. "It just needs some time to get started, that's all."

"Some time?" Don repeated, his legs drawn up to his plastron, holding his arms around them. "Leo, we've been sitting here for hours. The _sun_ was still up when you started out. I'm cold and hungry. Now will you _please_ let someone else try?"

The pressure didn't go unnoticed by Leo, who stubbornly started waving fiercer. "It's the stupid logs you brought," he blamed, waving harder. "They won't burn."

"Hey, don't blame the logs, a'right!" Raph angrily pointed at his brother, having gone through the torment of Mikey's singing oven mitt when collecting the logs with him.

Leo said nothing but continued to wave the piece of paper, secretly clenching his teeth.

"Yeah, and I think the fish is about to start rot or something," Mike added, staring at the pile of dead fish with a disgusted look on his face. "They smell like shit, and I'm not just talking about the usually kind of shit they smell."

"You think _you_ can do this better?" Leo cried, angrily turning around to look at the youngest turtle.

Mike jumped at the sudden outburst, grabbing onto Donnie for support, boring his nails into Don's upper arm. Donatello winced at the pain and turned to pry Mikey's fingers off of his arm, weakly rubbing his sore skin.

"Well, I.. err.. um.. I uh.. emh.." Mike stuttered, not wanting to upset his brother furthermore.

"I'll do it," Raph said, not breaking down to Leo's stare as he turned around to look at him.

"You think you've got what it takes?" Leonardo challenged, angrily gripping the tent-manual tighter, accidentally crumpling it into a small ball of paper.

"I know I do," Raphael replied, boring his eyes into his older brother.

"Fine," Leo said, tossing the ball of paper at his brother. "Then show us how it's done."

Raphael nonchalantly brushed the ball of paper off of himself and rose to his feet, strolling past his brothers as he walked up to his and Michelangelo's tent, bending down to look through his backpack. After reaching into the far bottom with his arm, Raphael found what he was searching for and walked back to the others, revealing his secret weapon to Leonardo.

"You brought starter fluid!" Leo cried, placing his hands on his hips as if to look intimidating.

"I thought you were hungry.." Raph muttered, unscrewing the cork to the unlabeled plastic bottle.

"I _thought_ we were supposed to live off of nature," Leo strongly reminded his younger brother, who seemed to have some trouble with the child-proof cork.

"What about Mikey? He brought crackers!" Raph shot Leo an angry look, partly because of not being able to open the bottle.

"That's different," Leo insisted, never breaking his gaze.

"Yeah, Raph," Mikey agreed from where he sat next to Don. "That's different."

"You want food or not?" Raph wondered, sending his youngest brother a threatening look.

"On the other hand," Mikey continued, using a much friendlier voice when addressing his red clad brother. "I think Raph is totally right. There's no cheating when it comes to food, and I'm starving."

Raph nodded at Mike in approval before he turned back to the bottle, using all his force to try to get it open. Finally, his temper got the better of him and he clutched the cork with his teeth, trying to somehow bite it open.

"You need help?" Don offered, keeping well in mind the danger of asking Raph a question like that.

"Do I _look_ like I need help?" Raph outburst, the bottle still clenched in-between his teeth.

"Umh..." Donnie trailed, trying to go easy on his brother. "Actually, yeah."

Raph sent him a furious look, making Don cringe a little.

"You have to push it down before you unscrew it," Donatello explained, instructing Raphael with his hands.

"Don'cha think I know that!" Raph yelled, once again letting his hands do the job, without much luck. "The damn thing won't open! It's stuck!"

Donatello rose to his feet and walked up to is brother, sensing he was only seconds away from throwing the bottle into the poor excuse of a fire. "Here, let me try," he said, holding out his hands to his brother.

"Fine!" Raph said, shoving the bottle into his brother's plastron. "Juz don't think yer stupid computer skills'll do any good with that bottle!" He angrily stomped off from his brothers, pacing back and forth by the tents.

Donatello fearfully glanced at Mikey, relieved to have survived Raph's temper.

"Well, ain't he a doll.." Mike joked, cringing at the look he got from Raph.

Don quickly turned his attention to the bottle, pushing the cork down with his right palm before effortlessly unscrewing it. "Here you go," he said, holding out the bottle and cork to his brother, who angrily walked up to him and snatched the two objects, turning to the non-flaming fire.

He carelessly squirted the fluid across the logs, resulting in the fire to burn up with an powerful explosion, causing his three brothers to cover their eyes with their lower arms to protect themselves from the strong flames. Slowly, each of them peeked out from behind their arms, staring at what might as well be the purgatory.

"Mother of all Pizzas..." Mike breathed, bewildered by the vision. "What's _in_ that bottle?"

"Yeah, Raphael," Leo filled in, crossing his arms and turning to his red masked brother. "What _do_ you have in that bottle?"

"Juz some stuff," Raph shrugged, putting back the cork.

"Some stuff?" Donnie repeated, still in shock, taking a few steps back from the fires of hell.

"Yeah, some home-made stuff," Raph confirmed, walking over to his backpack to put back the mystical bottle.

"Do I even wanna know what that means?" Leo asked, turning to look at Mike who simply shook his head in response.

"Well, your 'home-made stuff' almost burned down the entire forest," Donatello spoke up, having torn his eyes away from the flames.

"But they didn't," Raphael said, zipping his bag shut and rising to his feet.

"But they could've," Don insisted, fear visible in his eyes. "Are you completely insane? Playing with a bottle like that in the middle of the forest?"

"Geeze, Don," Raph said, rising his eye ridges in surprise. "It's juz a little fire. No harm done."

_"Little?"_ Don repeated, his voice rising in panic. "I could've sworn I burned off some eyelashes in that explosion."

"We don't have eyelashes," Leo pointed out, while Mike curiously searched his eyes for them, trying to grab onto them with his fingers.

"That's beside the point," Donnie said, offering Leo a quick glance. "I'm talking about the danger of fire and all its power. Did you know that when you burn up, you can actually _hear_ the auditory meatus _melt_ inside your ear."

"Really?" Mike questioned, still picking his eyes for eyelashes.

"Yeah, that's a sweet story, Don," Raph shrugged. "But I think yer juz bein' a motherhen if ya ask me." He nonchalantly walked back to his other two brothers, seating himself next to Mikey. Leo still stood on his feet, observing Don as he followed Raph.

"Well, I think you should learn to show some respect when it comes to fire," Donatello ranted, stopping behind the red clad turtle's back. "Next time we might not be as lucky."

Raph simply shook his head and ignored his brother.

"Are you all right, Donnie?" Leo wondered, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

"All right?" Don paused in his lecture, turning to look at Leo with a worried look. "Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be all right? Because I am... all right, I mean," he awkwardly added, offering a sheepish smile.

"You sure?" Leo asked, sharing a quick glance with his other brothers before he turned back to Don. "Because you seem almost... well.. Are you _afraid_ of fire or something?"

"Afraid?" Don repeated, trying to laugh at the idea. "Why would you think I'm afraid..? It's just..." His eyes went in trance as he turned to look at the fire, his body frozen in complete fear.

Michelangelo quickly snatched the box of matches they had used to lit the fire as he got up on his feet and walked up to his paralyzed brother, lighting a match only inches from his face.

"Aaaaah!" a much girlier version of Don screamed, almost jumping out of his shell in the process.

"Yup," Mike said, waving the lit match in his hand to put it out. "That's one scared dude, I tell ya."

"Oh, Don," Leo said, walking up to the purple masked turtle. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid," he insisted, putting a comforting hand on his hyperventilating brother's shoulder, which Don barely acknowledged. "Fear is something that's a part of everyone. You just have to learn to conquer it." He clenched his fist for a more masculine effect.

This got Don back to reality. "Oh yeah?" he questioned, turning to look at his oldest brother. "I'll listen to _that_ the day _you_ hold a sna--"

"A SNAKE?" Leo shrieked, looking around himself in panic. _"Where!"_

"I think I've made my point," Donatello said, turning to look at his other brothers.

Raph just shook his head, turning to the pile of dead fish to pick one for himself. "Are we eatin' t'night, or what?"

Mike wasn't late to follow his example.

* * *

"Wow," Leo said, putting aside what was left of his grilled fish. "That was amazing. One wouldn't think the small ones would taste so great. Right, Don?" He turned to Donatello on the other side of the fire.

"Right," the purple masked turtle mumbled, glancing at the four inch fish skeleton lying next to him.

"All right," Leo continued as he rose to his feet, brushing off his thighs. "I think I'm gonna call it a night, guys." He took a moment to admire the starlit sky, hovering above them like a roof.

Mike looked up from the fish he was nagging on. "What?" he shrieked, some fish meat stuck in his teeth. "But I thought we were gonna play cards!"

"With _you_?" Leo questioned, as if he had never heard anything as ridiculous. "You're always cheating."

"Nuh-uuuh!" Mike disagreed.

"Ya-haa!" Leo insisted, a tired smile playing on his lips.

"I _so_ don't," Mike insisted, sounding almost offended.

"Oh, you _so_ do," Don joined the conversation with a smile. "All our poker games end with Leo and I prying Raph's choking hands off of you for hiding your cards and peeking at his."

"Okay, so maybe I've done it once or twice," Mikey hastily admitted. "But we could always play something else. Like uh... go fish!"

"You cheat at that, too," Leo reminded him from where he was standing.

"Okay, so what about spades?" Mike suggested.

"You're always hiding cards," Don said.

"Hearts?"

"Stealin' cards."

"Blackout?"

"Lying."

Mike finally slumped in defeat, having mentioned all the games he knew.

"Looks like the only game ye'll be playin' is Solitair," Raphael said with a grin.

"Yeah well, I'm off to bed," Leo said and walked to his tent. "Night, guys."

"Night," Don and Raph answered in chorus as Mike still pouted to himself.

"So," Don then said, turning to look at his red clad brother across the fire. "So, now that playing cards is off the table, what do we do?"

"I dunno know," Raph shrugged, picking his teeth with one of his sais. Only silence followed as each turtle tried to think of something to do.

"I know!" MIchelangelo suddenly lit up, giving the other two all the reason to worry. "We could sing!"

This announcement quickly scared off his two brothers, who both escaped into their different tents.

"Oh, c'mon, guys!" Mike called after them, reaching for the oven mitt in his belt. "Mr. Gaffy and I know a whole bunch of songs you'd like! You can't have a campfire without singing!"

There came no replies to his offer, only a lonesome owl staring at him from a tree a few feet away. Slowly, the glowing eyes of the bird started to creep the young turtle out. What with the glow from the fire, it began to resemble the evil of Satan. So he quickly rose to his feet and took the bucket of water Don had set out in case the fire would spread, putting it out for the night.

With Mr. Gaffy clutched in his grip he strode off to his and Raph's tent, he too calling it a night.

* * *

Donatello sat on his sleepingbag, untying the slime green bag on his foot, allowing it to breathe for the first time that day.

"Aaaaaaaaah," he moaned with pleasure once the bag was off, wiggling his two toes that peeked up from the baindaid. He quickly shoved the bag into his backpack by the foot of the tent, taking the flashlight in his right grip as he put away the toothbrush he had just used After closing the backpack, he put the flashlight on Leo's side of the tent, to keep light on the task at hand: Crawling inside the sleeping-bag.

He partially unzipped the bag, shoving his legs inside it only to come to an abrupt stop. No matter how he turned or twisted, his shell wouldn't fit inside the dark blue sleeping bag. In spite of this he persistently kept on trying, refusing to believe he was too big for it. They hadn't thought about the bags being made for humans when they packed them, and not shell wearing turtles, but now it seemed as if the problem was staring him right in the face - laughing.

Finally, Don gave up and unzipped the entire bag, hunching in the tent as he tried to spread out the open sleeping-bag across the military green foam-rubber mattress. He fluffed his pillow one final time before he laid down on the mattress, pulling the sleeping-bag over him, listening to the buzzing noise of a hungry mosquito as it flew around him in the small tent. He carefully searched for the source of the sound, only to flinch at the sound of someone unzipping the entrance to the tent.

"Hey," Leonardo said as he peeked his head inside, having just brushed his teeth.

"Hey," Don replied, supporting himself on his elbows. "Was it scary to brush your teeth?"

"What do you mean?" Leo asked, a confused expression on his face.

"Well," Don began, thinking back to their earlier conversation. "I mean, what if the hypothetical situation earlier wasn't hypothetical."

Leo's eyes widened with fear.

"You _may_ have brushed your teeth with my germs without even knowing it," Don teased, smiling broadly.

Leo's face turned pale and he felt his stomach turn.

"I'm just kidding!" Donnie quickly explained, afraid his big brother would retch right over his sleeping bag. "Don't worry, Leo. I didn't use your toothbrush," he promised, holding up his hands to prove his innocence.

Leo swallowed the lump in his throat and climbed inside the tent, shutting the zipper behind him. Then, after having placed his toothbrush and toothpaste in his bag, he crawled over to his pillow to curl up in his sleeping-bag.

"Yeah, and about the sleeping-bags," Donatello said, just as his brother was about to slide his legs inside it. "We don't fit inside them. You know, them being made for non-shell wearing humans."

Leo instantly frowned, for the first time noticing what Don had done with his sleeping-bag. He tiredly followed his example and laid down on his mattress, only seconds away from flattening the wrinkles on the fabric when he remembered Donnie's accusations about him being a perfectionist. He forced himself to place his hands on his sides, while trying not to think about the wrinkles that resided on his sleeping-bag. Though it didn't take long until he clutched his hands in panic, the vein on his forehead growing bigger.

Don noticed Leo's obsessive behaviour out of the corner of his eye. "Just do it," he finally said, giving Leo his blessing to get rid of his wrinkles. "I don't care if you're an obsessive freak."

Leo happily flattened the wrinkles, a look of pure joy plastered on his face. He then turned off the flashlight and placed it-between the two of them. "Good night," he told his brother.

"Night," Don answered.

It didn't take long for the oldest turtle to fall asleep, using one of his meditation tricks. Don, however, continuously rolled and turned on his mattress, desperately trying to find a comfortable position. After tossing and turning for five minutes, he settled for lying on the side, his shell turned to Leo as he stared at the fabric of the tent, listening to the soothing sound of the wind, an owl calling out in the night.

Just as he felt his heavy eyelids dropping shut, the buzzing sound of the mosquito brought him back to life He instantly sat up, wide awake, trying to locate the flying bloodsucker, his eyes searching the darkness of the tent. But the noise soon died out, once again leaving him in complete silence. His eyelids immediately felt heavy again, and Donnie crawled back under his sleeping-bag, resting his tired head on the pillow.

* * *

Raphael laid on his left side in the tent, his shell turned to his younger brother, who after minutes of talking to him about different songs you could sing around the campfire, finally surrendered to Mr. Sandman and fell asleep.

Raph too felt Mr. Sandman casting his spell over him, becoming less and less aware of his surroundings, even the pinecone by one of his calves, until...

_ZZzzZZZzzzZzZZNOOOOOOOOOORE... ZzzZZzzZZzzzZZzZZZNOOOOOOOOOORE.. ZzZZzZzZZZZZzzzZZZNNNOOORGH-- _GARH AGH.. KHGN!

He angrily turned over and pushed Mike as he choked on his snores, causing the young turtle to fall back into his shockingly loud snoring patterns.

_ZZzzZZZzzzZzZZNOOOOOOOOOORE... ZzzZZzzZZzzzZZzZZZNOOOOOOOOOORE.._

"Mike!" Raph hissed, this time kicking his baby brother in his side.

"Wha.. What is it, dude?" Michelangelo sleepily asked, his eyes barely open in the darkness.

"Yer snorin'!" Raph angrily pointed out, staring at the guilty.

"Sorry.." Mike mumbled, falling back asleep even as he spoke.

_ZZzzZZZzzzZzZZNOOOOOOOOOORE... ZzzZZzzZZzzzZZzZZZNNNN--_

"Stop it! Raph shouted, slapping Mikey on his shoulder.

"Wha..?" Mike's eyes shot open. "What did I do?"

"Yer snorin' again," Raphael furiously replied, his eyes practically glowing with rage in the darkness.

"Sorry, bro.." Mike said, turning over on his side, his shell turned to Raph.

Raph laid back down on his pillow, staring at the ceiling of the tent for a while before he felt his eyelids dropping shut, welcoming the state of sleep.

But then...

_ZZzzZZZzzzZzZZNOOOOOOOOOORE... ZzzZZzzZZzzzZZzZZZNOOOOOOOOOORE..._

The red masked turtle angrily sat up on his mattress, clenching his jaw so tight it began to squeak at the pressure. He roughly kicked off his sleeping-bag and turned around to clutch his pillow.

* * *

Donatello sleepily opened his eyes when he heard someone unzipping the entrance to their tent. Only seconds later, someone stepped on his legs, shoving their foot into his stomach.

"Oouff!" Don breathed, grabbing his belly in pain. "What was that good for?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his plastron. "Raph?" he questioned as he recognized the turtle next to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Mike's snorin', that's what I'm doin' here," he muttered as he shoved his pillow in-between his two brothers and turned back to close the tent.

"Oh," Donnie said, realizing that if he listened closely enough, he could actually hear the noise over by the other tent.

"Move aside," Raphael ordered, rolling out his foam-rubber mattress in the middle.

"What's going on?" Leo sleepily wondered, lifting his heavy head from his pillow.

"Mikey's snoring again, so Raph's crashing here," Donatello quickly informed.

"Oh," Leo said, almost as if he had expected it, before he tiredly dropped his head back to the pillow and fell asleep again.

Raphael squeezed himself in-between his siblings, pulling his unzipped sleeping-bag over him as Don turned away from him, trying to get comfortable in the suddenly very crowded tent.

Raph felt something hard underneath his head and quickly reached in under his pillow, pulling out the flashlight Leo had put there earlier. He tossed it down to the other stuff by the foot of the tent, dropping his head to the soft pillow. A few snore-free seconds later, the red masked turtle was fast asleep.

Minutes later, Don finally got semi-comfortable on his side of the tent, his tired eyes closing for the night. When suddenly...

_BZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZzz..._

He instantly shot up from his mattress, his bloodshot eyes searching the small tent for their uninvited guest. The immortal mosquito mockingly flied around him, the noise of its wings screaming in his ears.

It was going to be a long night.


	6. Mikey owns a book?

**Chapter 6 - "Mikey owns a book?"**

The heating rays of the morning sun fought through the thick, green covers of the forest to reach down to the four sleeping turtles. One of them slightly twitched his lips as an insect flew past his face, unconsciously waving the bug away with his hand. Slowly, Donatello was brought back to the world of the living, his sleeping limbs growing stronger with awareness. He carefully peeked his eyes open, rubbing them with his right hand.

_Note to self,_ he bitterly thought as he scratched his itching face, _do not wear your bandanna to bed._

As both his eyes were open, Don stretched his arms in the crowded tent, realizing something was weighing down his legs. After lifting his tired head to inspect the foot of the tent, Donnie found Michelangelo stretched out in his sleep, taking up the most of the space in there.

Don tiredly dropped his head back to the pillow, sighing inwardly at the pointless idea of brining two tents. Even though one tent wasn't big enough for all four of them, Mikey certainly seemed to think so. Donatello decided to leave him be. The poor guy probably got scared as he woke up alone in his and Raph's tent. Besides, up until this moment, he had never had the chance to listen to the chipper morning symphony of the birds. He never got to hear it back in the city, certainly not in the sewers. So he calmly closed his eyes and listened.

It was such a peaceful sound.

"Whatta...?" a grumpy voice growled on his right. "Mi_key? _Get the hell offa' me!"

Don sighed as Raphael kicked the rest of the tent awake and drowned out the music of the forest.

The youngest turtle moaned something to himself and pulled his sleeping-bag over his head, ignoring his older brother's morning temper.

"Get up!" Raph insisted, kicking Mike with both his feet.

Leo groaned where he laid on his stomach, turning to look at his three brothers. "What?" he mumbled, trying to remember how many they were inside the tent when he went to sleep the night before. "What are you two doing here?" he finally asked, looking at Raph and Mike in puzzlement.

"_I_ came 'ere ta get away from his damn snoring. _He_," Raph said, pointing at the bumpy figure that hid underneath the sleeping-bag by the foot of tent, "_he_ came uninvited!"

"And I didn't wake up?" Leo questioned, more to himself than anyone else. He felt very disappointed with his nijitsu skills. He tiredly rubbed his forehead, taking the time he needed to wake up fully.

"Um.. Leo," Don trailed, a stunned look on his face as he looked at his oldest brother. "You've got something..."

"What?" Leo asked worriedly, earning both Raph and Mikey's attention, who decided to peak his head up from under the sleeping-bag to see what was up with their Fearless Leader.

Both Mike and Raph began to smile, although Raph's was a little more of the sadistic type.

"What is it?" Leo wondered, his raspy morning voice rising a notch.

Don hesitantly pointed to his own forehead. "You've got, uh... There's something weird looking.."

"What?" Leo cried as he shot up from the mattress, reaching up with his hand to touch his forehead, which he noticed seemed to itch awfully much. Multiplying the cork sized bump on his forehead with Raphael's evil grin, Leo realized he had been last night's victim of a hungry bug of some sorts. He started scratching the bump frenetically.

"No," Don forbid, holding out his hand to stop his brother. "You'll only anger it. Just try to leave it alone, it'll stop itching after a while."

"A _while_?" Leo questioned, a pained look on his face. "As in, a few minutes?"

"More like hours," Donatello corrected his brother. "Perhaps days. Important thing is not to scratch it. You've obviously had an allergic reaction to the poison."

Leo sighed, laying back down on the pillow, trying not to think about the itchy feeling on the centre of his forehead.

"Wow, look at the size of that thing," Mike said with amazement, suddenly very fascinated with the oldest turtle's forehead. "Must've been some kinda monster skeeter. Feasting on Leo's face like a huge slice of green pizza."

Don cringed at the mental image of an enormous insect trying to feed on their blood while they were innocently sleeping. He instantly began searching his body for any possible injury caused by the moster-bug.

"Or maybe it had some sort of rare, super-deadly disease or something," Mikey continued with another medical theory, using his hands to make his point. "Like the one where you get all sick and die."

Leonardo instantly got a horrified look on his face.

"It's called Malaria," Don explained, turning to inform his younger brother. "And you don't die," he corrected his over-dramatic sibling. "At least not most of the time."

A pale Leo sat up on his mattress and turned to look at the purple masked turtle. "What do you mean 'most of the time'?"

"Well," Donatello said, preparing a textbook explanation. "There are of course cases where the victim dies, often when she's been infected with the Plasmodium falciparum parasite. But if you recognize the symptoms soon enough, and treat them properly, of course, there's a big chance you should make it."

Leo felt as if Don was talking about him, as if he really _did_ have Malaria. "Wha.." he fearfully swallowed before finishing his question. "What are the symptoms?"

"It's almost like the flu," Donnie said, noticing the pale look on the blue masked turtle's face. "But don't worry, Leo. The chances of you being infected are pretty slim. I'd say none. Most of the cases when someone in the U.S. gets the disease, it's because they've been visiting a place that has the parasite. Like uh.. Africa or Asia. Or South America!" he enthusiastically added.

"What about upstate New York?" Raph snickered, glancing at his oldest brother. "I saw a pretty freaky lookin' mosquito last night when I was brushin' my teeth."

"Yeah… no," Don said, shaking his head. "I don't think so, Raph." He crawled up from underneath his sleeping bag, stepping on various brothers as he walked hunched towards the exit of the tent, unzipping the zipper for some fresh wildlife air.

* * *

"Okay, according to my calculations," Leonardo said as he stood ready with the map in his hands, his bag already packed on his back. "We should be going _that_ way." He pointed in the same direction they had been walking yesterday. "And try to keep an eye on the lake, so we don't go too far into the forest."

"Sure thing, Mr. Malaria," Mike used his infamous oven mitt to answer his brother with a salute, causing all three of his siblings to growl for the sake of being incredibly annoyed with their youngest brother and his stuffed friend.

"Whatever," Leo shrugged, letting that one pass. "So is everyone ready?"

"Absolutely," Don replied, having just tied another yellow plastic bag around his injured foot.

"Raph?" Leo wondered, finding his red clad brother on the ground, trying to fit the baby blue tent inside the brown bag it came with, using his brawn instead of the brain to perform the task.

"This damn tent won't fit inside the stupid bag, Mikey!" Raphael hissed through clenched teeth as he tried to shove the rolled up tent into the bag.

"What?" Mike asked innocently, eating crackers for breakfast. "What did I do?"

"Nothin'!" Raph yelled, turning around to look at the orange masked turtle standing behind him. "I thought this was yer tent, too, Shit-for-brains."

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, Mr. Grumpy," the giraffe spoke. "There's no need for name calling."

Raph angrily rose to his feet to choke the talking sock, causing a scared Mike to run off into the forest, protecting his knitted friend.

Raph snickered as he noticed Mikey's backpack on the ground, looking back up after his little brother. "Ye still have ta come back for the bag, Mike!" he called out to the turtle who thought he was invisible because of the tree he hid behind.

Donnie just shook his head and walked up to Raph's tent, rolling out the baby blue fabric to roll it up properly. Normally, Raphael would be furious for someone not letting him do it by himself, but now he couldn't care less. Because if someone felt like packing up his and Mike's tent, well, they were more than welcome to save him the trouble.

Of course, what with Don being a pro at almost everything he did, even though he would never admit to it, the tent was back in its bag in less then a minute, much to Leo's pleasure.

"Okay," the oldest turtle said as Raph shoved the tent into his backpack. "With that taken care of, I think it's safe to say we should be on our way." He took the lead as he walked deeper into the forest, greeting Michelangelo by the tree with a simple, "Get your bag, Mike."

Mikey did as he was told and went back to fetch his bag, shoving the knitted giraffe into his belt before he strapped the backpack onto his shell, sensing Raphael's murderous glare. It was obvious Raph had reached his limit of patience when it came to Mr. Gaffy. Now it was only a matter of time before the temperamental turtle got his claws on the much hated kitchen supply.

* * *

They had been walking for a couple of hours, Leo still keeping his lead up front, and throughout these couple of hours, they had been forced to listen to Michelangelo's moaning and whimpering. It was obvious something was bothering the youngest turtle, but he wasn't planning on telling anybody what it was, until someone sympathized with him and asked what the problem was.

Somehow, it had turned into one of their infamous Battles of the Will, admitting to a weaker mind if you succumbed to Mike's complaints and asked him about it. So instead of admitting such a defeat, the three turtles walked in silence, Mikey's sighing and whimpering getting louder by the minute.

Finally, Leo couldn't take it anymore. He angrily spun around to the others, locking his eyes on the youngest turtle in the back. "What?" he spat, holding onto the straps of his backpack.

Mikey pretended to be surprised, "What?" he asked. "I didn't say anything."

"No?" Raph questioned, glaring at the orange masked turtle. "Then what's up with this?" he wondered, doing his best to imitate his little brother's constant whining complaints.

"I don't sound like that!" Mike cried, almost a little offended.

"Yeah, you do," Don insisted, laughing at Raphael's dead on 'Whimpering Mikey' impression.

"Yeah," Leo agreed, crossing his arms. "So spill it. What's bothering you?"

"Well, if you really wanna know" Mikey began, instantly switching to 'please kiss my booboo' mode. "It's these shoes," he complained, pointing to the boots he wore on his feet.

"What about 'em?" Raphael asked, his voice lacking the sympathy Mike was looking for.

"They're galling my feet," the youngest hiker revealed, plopping down on the nearest rock. "I don't think I can walk any farther. It hurts too much."

Raphael and Leonardo exchanged unimpressed looks, thinking it was just another one of their lazy brother's tricks.

"_Rea_lly?" Don questioned, him too not looking very convinced.

"It's true!" Mike insisted, trying to look as pitiful as he could. But he didn't quite get the look he was going for. Instead, he looked more pathetic than pitiful. However, it was good enough to pinch at Don's concern.

He walked up to his little brother, instructing him to take off his shoes. Mike did so, moaning in pain as he pulled his feet out from the stinky leather boots, causing Don to twist his face in disgust.

He hadn't prepared himself for the stench.

"All right," Donnie said professionally, doing his best to ignore the horrendous smell. "Lemme see." He held out his hands, reaching for one of Mike's feet.

Michelangelo placed his left foot in Don's grip, for the first time revealing the bloody heel to both himself and his brothers.

"Does it hurt?" Donatello asked, carefully touching the blisters on the foot.

"What does it look like?" Mike responded, looking at his brother in irritation. "I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

"Right," Don said, putting down Mike's foot and reaching for the other one. He inspected it thoroughly from different angles, taking mental notes. "Okay, these boots are clearly bad for you," he concluded the obvious, putting down the foot and holding his breath to look inside the shoes.

Raph and Leo watched the entire thing with great interest and, of course, slight disgust.

"Strange though," Donnie mumbled, putting the shoes back down on the grass before he rose to his feet.

"What?" Mikey asked curiously.

"Well," Don began, glancing at Leo and Raph before he turned back to Michelangelo. "We walked all day yesterday. You'd think you'd get blisters after a day like that in _those_ shoes," he finished, pointing to the boots next to Mike.

"Well, I uh.." Mike began sheepishly, avoiding eye contact with his older brothers.

"What?" Raph asked, irritation obvious on his voice.

"I kinda got some of these blisters yesterday," the youngest hiker admitted, causing his three brothers to grunt in frustration. "But I didn't wanna say anything."

"Why?" Leo asked.

"Well, ain't that obvious?" Raph said, turning to look at the blue masked turtle. "He didn't want us ta be right, an-"

"..and admit that he was wrong," Leonardo interrupted, suddenly seeing things very clearly. "That's right," he said, turning to look at Mikey. "We _did_ warn you about those boots, didn't we?" he questioned, an evil smile slowly stretching his lips.

"...yeah," Mike mumbled, staring at the ground.

"Which means," Leo continued, sharing a smile with Raph. "Since we were right, that would make you... wrong. Wouldn't it?" Once again he turned to look at the youngest, who still held his eyes locked on the suddenly very interesting ground.

"...mmph.."

"Say what?" Raphael questioned, leaning a little closer, as if to hear him better. "I don't think I heard ya. Did you, Leo?" he asked, fashionably turning to his brother as if they were rehearsing a play.

"No, I sure did not," Leo answered, the two of them turning to look at Mike while Donnie tiredly shook his head, taking off his backpack.

"I was wrong," Mikey admitted, this time speaking loud enough for his brothers to hear.

Meanwhile, Don was unpacking his little medical kit, preparing to tend to Mike's injured feet. And while he focused on picking out the antiseptics he needed, Raphael went through Mike's backpack, brining forth his little brother's camera to use it against him.

After winding up the object, Raph took a few good pictures of his Mikey's disgusting feet, making sure he got the bloody blisters from every different angle.

"Kick a dude while he's down, why don'cha.." Mike mumbled, suddenly not so fond of the disposable camera anymore.

"What goes around comes around," Don reminded Mikey while he used some bandaid for the injured heels.

"Sure," Mike frowned in his suffering. "Just rub it in."

After Don was done with Mikey and both his punished feet were covered with plastic bags, Leo unfolded the map to make sure he knew where they were going. "Okay," he said, still looking at the map. "If everyone's ready, I think we should leave now. Get your bags."

"Um.." Mikey hesitated as Donnie put on his backpack.

"What is it now?" Raph muttered, turning to look at the source of the sound.

"About my bag," Mike stuttered, fiddling with the oven mitt tucked in his belt. "I don't think I can carry it, what with my tragic injuries and everything."

Raphael was about to protest to the ridiculous statement when Leo spoke, "Fine. Then Raph'll carry it instead."

"What!" the red masked turtle exclaimed, shock visible on his features.

"Mikey could use a break and Don's hurt, too," Leonardo explained, looking up from his precious map for a short second. "That only leaves you, Raph."

"What about you, _Mister_ Leader," Raph growled, his teeth clenched.

"I can't very well do it while I'm reading the map, can I?" Leo said, holding up the map as if to prove his point.

"So then Donnie can take the map," Raphael brought forth another solution to the table.

"No-o," Leo disagreed, holding onto the map as if it was his security blanket.

"Why not?" Mike and Raph questioned in chorus.

"Because I _wanna_ read the map," Leo mumbled childishly, holding the map close to his plastron.

"Yeah well, here's a news flash, Leo," Raph began, crossing his arms. "I don't _wanna_ carry an extra bag."

"Well... Well, I.." Leonardo stuttered, trying to think of something useful to say. "I've got Malaria, okay? So leave me alone!"

Three stunned turtles watched a slightly panicking Leo stomp off into the forest. Although it didn't take long for the shock to subside and be replaced with laughter.

* * *

"Wow," Leo said while hiking. "Mikey's awfully quiet back there. He's still with us, right?"

"He's reading a book," Donatello explained, stepping over a root to avoid tripping.

"Wait," Leo said, stopping in his tracks. "Mikey owns a _book_?"

"Prob'ly a comic book," Raphael interjected, stopping behind Donatello since the hoard stopped moving forward. He tiredly dropped Mikey's backpack to the ground, which he'd unfortunately been talked into carrying. The three of them shared curious glances before the leader of the group decided to investigate the subject further.

"Mikey?" he called, turning to look at the turtle who didn't quite catch up with the pace. "What are you reading back there?"

"Worlds Greatest Blonde Jokes," Mike revealed, his face buried in the book as he walked, backpack-less.

"Figures," Don mumbled, shaking his head as the small trace of hope of Mike ever sitting down with him for a game of 'Scrabble' flew out the window forever.

The reading turtle chuckled loudly to himself as he walked up to his siblings, looking up at them as he reached up to them. "Dudes, ya gotta hear this one."

"Oh, no," the other three sighed in unison, fearing the words that would come out of Michelangelo's mouth.

"To a blonde," Mike began, travelling with his finger on the book page, "what's long and hard?"

"Ugh," Leo grunted, putting a hand to his head when sensing a forthcoming head ache. "Here it comes..."

"Forth grade!" Mike revealed, laughing hysterically, by himself, of course. "Okay," he said, gazing down at the open book. "What about this one? How do blonde brain cells die?" He looked up at his non-entertained brothers for an answer. When none of them seemed up for giving him one, Mike delivered the punch line himself, "Alone!"

"C'mon," Raph said, rolling his eyes. "That one's so old it's embarrassing."

Mike turned back to his book, searching the page for another joke. "Okay. So... Oooh! What's the difference between a blonde a mosquito?" And just like before, no one offered an answer. "The mosquito stops sucking when you smack it!"

"Hey, that's not funny!" Leo cried, scratching the giant mosquito-bite on his forehead.

"Yeah," Donnie agreed, recalling the undead bug from last night. "Spare us the mosquito jokes."

Mike frowned, turning a few pages in his book in search for a joke his brothers would approve. "Oooh! You'll love this one!" he exclaimed, his eyes glowing with anticipation. He looked up at his brothers, reading the joke real slowly, as if he was preaching straight out of the bible. "What. Do. Blondes. And turtles. Have in common?"

"Uh oh," Don mumbled, glancing at Leo. "This can't end well."

"When they're on their backs, they are _screwed_!" Mikey laughed, shaking his head while tears of joy travelled down his cheeks. "You get it?" he questioned in the midst of his laughter. "SCREWED!" He waved his hand, as if they hadn't understood the joke the first time.

"Gimme that!" Raph hissed, snatching the book from his little brother. After looking at the open page for a moment, he looked back up at Mike. "I've got one for ya," he said, causing Mike to strangle his laughter, wanting to hear the joke.

"Yeah?" he questioned, his entire face glowing with happiness.

"How can ya tell if a person's blonde?" he asked, causing Mike to go deep in thought, trying to solve the problem his older brother delivered. Raph simply shook his head before hitting the book on top of Mikey's head. "When they're laughing at their own jokes, that's how!"

"Ow!" Mike cried, clutching his skull. "It doesn't say that!" he accused, grabbing the book from Raph, looking for the page he had open.

"Why do I even bother?" Raphael asked his other two siblings, who simple shrugged in response.

"C'mon," Leo said, adjusting the straps on his backpack. "Let's go."

His siblings followed him, Mike's head still buried in his book. After a few short seconds of walking in silence, the youngest brother opened his mouth at the discover of another blonde joke,

"Okay, this one's really funny!"

"Mikey, please, spare us the torture," Don begged, throwing his head backwards while holding onto the straps of his bag. "No more."

Mike of course ignored this plea for mercy and went right on reading, "What does a blonde say when you ask her if her blinker is on?" He paused shortly for dramatic effect. "It's on. It's off. It's on. It's off. It's on. It's off. It's on. It's-"

"We get it, Mike," Raphael tiredly interrupted, trying to get comfortable with both his and Mikey's bag. "Now jam it!"

Mike frowned, finally convinced of reading the jokes quietly to himself.

"You know," Donatello suddenly said, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I honestly believe that if Mikey was human, he'd be blonde."

"No question there," Leo agreed, chuckling at his brother's comment.

"Hey!" Mikey called out from behind them, looking up from his book with an offended expression. "That's totally untrue. If I'd have hair, it would be the most thickest, awesomest brown hair ever! Like that pirate guy from that Caribbean movie," he said, pointing at his brothers.

"Johnny Depp?" Don questioned, his voice the sound of pure shock as Mikey compared himself to the famous Hollywood actor, who, even _he_ had to admit looked awfully good... for a guy, of course.

"Yeah, him!" Mike lit up. "Or maybe like Antonio Banderas," he continued, picturing his human self in his mind.

"Who're ya tryin' ta kid?" Raph called over his shoulder, shaking his head in obvious disagreement. "Yer blonde all the way down ta the bones. Kinda like that guy on 'Friends'."

"What guy?" Mikey wondered, trying to think of a blonde male on 'Friends'. "All the guys on 'Friends' have dark hair," he than said, having gone through the cast members in his head.

"No they don't," Raph insisted as he walked, trying to remember the name of the person he was mentioning to. "There's that really, really blonde guy down at the coffee house. Y'know," he said, trying to get any of his siblings to remember. "The one with the hots for Rachel."

"Oh!" Donatello suddenly remembered. "You mean Gunther!"

"Yeah, Gunther!" Raphael confirmed as his other two brothers burst out laughing.

"What? No!" Mikey cried behind them, offended down to his very soul. "I'd look nothing like Gunther! I'm Banderas! _Banderas!_" he insisted, speaking to deaf ears.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mikey," Leonardo laughed . "You'd be a Gunther whether you want to or not." The three of them kept on walking, occasionally chuckling to themselves, while Michelangelo desperately tried to come up with ugly celebrities that could pass for his brother's human forms.

* * *

"Well," Leo said, carefully inspecting the small grove they had settled for. "This is as good a place as any, right?"

"Will you relax, Leo, " Don said where he sat in a small rock, reaching inside his backpack that stood leaned against the left side of the rock. "We've stopped for fluids, not a place to build our dream home."

"Yeah, dude," Mike joined in as he unscrewed the cork to his water bottle. "Now, I dunno if anyone's ever told you this, but everything doesn't _have_ to be perfect, you know.."

"Ha. Ha," Leo frowned, taking off his backpack. "I'm just making sure no one'll see us, 'cause I don't know if anyone's ever told you this," he said, imitating what Mikey just told _him_, "but people usually freak out when they stumble upon four giant turtles in the middle of the forest."

"What?" Raph said, having just swallowed a gulp of water. "So yer sayin' there's a place where people _don't_ scream when they see giant turtles?"

Leonardo rolled his eyes at his brother's stupid remark. "You know what I mean," he shrugged, reaching inside his backpack for his bottle.

"You know," Mikey said after a while. "There _are_ places where people wouldn't scream around us."

"Oh, God," Don sighed, preparing himself for whatever Mikey was going to say.

"I mean, there are Sci-Fi movies," Mike began, counting the examples on his fingers. "Then there's uhh.. well, there's mute people," he said, putting up a second finger for the counting. "Ooh, and dreams!" he exclaimed.

"Well, actually," Donnie interjected, unscrewing the cup on his thermos. "If the person in question is having a nightmare, I'd say chances are rather high he or she will scream."

"Why would anyone have a nightmare about us?" Mike wondered, getting off topic.

"Why would anyone have _any_ kind of dream about us?" Donatello pointed out.

"But let's say someone _does_ have a nightmare about us," Mikey began, evil twinkling in his eyes. "I bet it would be about Raph."

"Hey!" Raph cried, choking on his water before he had a chance to scold his brother.

Don smiled, pouring steaming coffee into his plastic cup.

"Wait," Leo interrupted when he noticed what the brainy turtle kept in his thermos. "You have _coffee_?"

"Yeah...?" Don answered, as if it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Are _any_ of you living off of nature?" Leo questioned, tiredly crossing his arms.

"What?" Don said, shrugging. "Coffee beans come from nature," he defended himself, carefully sipping on the hot liquid.

Leonardo turned to look at Michelangelo, who simply grinned before he stuffed another cracker down his throat. Leo dropped his arms at his sides and shook his head, giving up on his hopeless family. "What's the use..." he sighed, seeing no idea in being the only one faithful to nature. "You wouldn't want to share a cup, would you?" he asked, turning to look at his purple masked brother.

Donatello simply smiled and held out the cup for his brother to take.

"So," Raph said, putting his bottle back in the bag. "Think yer strong enough ta carry yer own bag now, Mike?"

"Oh, I don't know," Mikey trailed, wiggling with his bagged feet. "I'm still in some pretty gruesome pain. Walking in itself is bad enough."

"Really?" Raphael questioned, obviously not convinced. "Cuz ya haven't been complainin' in a while."

"But I'm in pain," Mikey insisted, rubbing one of his feet. "Even this, right here, hurts. And I'm barely touching them."

"Ferget it," Raph decided. shaking his head. "From here on, yer carryin' yer own bag, Gunther."

Mike frowned at the insult before an idea hit him, leading him to bend down to untie one of the plastic bags. He stumbled up to a suspicious looking Raphael, who pulled his face back as Mike lifted up his injured foot in front of him.

"Look," the youngest turtle said, carefully pulling at a piece of the bandaid so Raph would be able to see what hid underneath it.

"I'm not lookin' at _that_!" Raph cried, a disgusted look on his face.

"Oh, c'mon," Mikey insisted, holding his foot closer to Raphael's face. "It's not like it's contagious or anything. Just look."

"No!" Raph refused, causing Don and Leo to exchange small smiles with each other. "Get that thing away from me!"

"So you'll carry my backpack?" Michelangelo asked, still keeping his foot pretty close to his brother's face.

"Yeah, juz put that thing back in bag, will ya?" Raphael replied, covering his beak in disgust.

"Okay," Mike said with a cheery voice, walking back to the rock he had been sitting on to put the bag back on. The rest of them quickly followed his example and began to pack their things to leave.

As Leo bent down to grab his backpack, he was met with a surprise when lifting it to put it on.

_"AAAAAH!"_ a girly voice caused the others to jump in shock.

"What?" Donnie asked, turning to look at the turtle responsible for the dog-whistle noise. "What's the matter, Leo?"

"It's... there's.. There's a.." Leonardo stuttered, a frightened finger pointing at something in the grass.

"A what?" Raphael wondered, his curiosity leading him to the place. What he found even startled _him_ a little, as the creature escaped through the grass.

"A snake!" Leo finally managed to get out.

"A sn- Is it _really_?" Mikey asked enthusiastically, rushing up to his brothers to get a glimpse of the animal his oldest brother feared so.

"Yeah, but it's gone now," Raphael said, staring at the empty grass where the creature had been.

"Leo!" Mikey scolded, slapping Leo on his upper arm. "I can't believe you scared it away with your girlish screams!"

"Wha..?" Leo breathed, turning to look at his little brother. "Well, what was I supposed to do?"

"How about _not_ scream!" Mike suggested, visibly disappointed that he didn't get to see the snake.

"Well," Donnie joined in as he strapped on his backpack. "What did it look like?"

"It was long and ugly and, and creepy," a frightened Leo answered, staring aimlessly at the grass, visualising the reptile that hid there a few seconds ago.

"Okaaay..." Don said, not getting much useful information from that description. "Anyone else? Raph?" he asked, causing the red masked turtle to turn around. "Did you see it?"

"Um... yeah," the turtle answered, only to fall silent once again.

"...and what did it look like?" Donatello urged, trying to get some answers.

"It was uh, it was kinda short and slim," Raphael answered, thoughtfully scratching himself on his forehead. "It had.. uh, I think yellow stripes, and it was black. Or brown, I dunno. I'm not sure."

"But it was small?" Don questioned, repeating Raph's description silently in his head.

"Yeah, about twenty inches, I dunno. Somethin' like that," Raph answered. "Was it poisonous?" he asked.

"No," Donnie said, shaking his head. "It was probably a garter snake. Completely harmless. So you can start breathing again, Leo," he hinted, looking at the blue masked turtle who was nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"It was a snake," the uptight ninja said, not even noticing Don's comment.

"Right," Mike said, patting his shocked brother on his shoulder. "So, how do ya feel about leaving, bro?" he suggested, picking up his brother's backpack and handing it to the frozen turtle.

"Yeah, Leo," Raph agreed, patting a smiling Mikey on the shoulder as he walked past him. "Listen ta Gunther."

It took a while for Mike to catch the insult, resulting in his smile to stay on a bit longer than most people's would. "He- Hey! Would you quit calling me Gunther! It's Banderas. _Banderas!_"

"Raph, be nice to him," Leo said, suddenly woken up from his trance, causing Michelangelo to flash a grateful smile. "Gunther's sensitive," the oldest then added.

"Hey!" Mikey called after his siblings as they left him. "I don't look like Gunther, and I'm _not_ sensitive!"

"It's good ta have ya back, Leo," Raph said, draping an arm around his big brother as he prepared to put on his backpack.


	7. Raph, I'm scared

**Chapter 7 - "Raph, I'm scared."**

Raphael tossed what remained of the fish to the side, resting his arms behind his head as he leaned back against the log behind him. It was one of those moments. He felt like he didn't have a care in the world. They were done walking for the day, the tents were up and Leo had yet again pulled up quite the collection of fish out of the lake. So as he laid there, content beyond his wildest dreams, his stomach was pleasantly full. Nothing would be able to stir his temper now.

"_I_ know, fellas!" the talking oven mitt pierced the silence. "Let's aaaaall go for a nice, warm swim in the lake!"

Raph grunted, kicking himself for forgetting that _thing_ was still a part of the trip. He would have to do something about that later, he decided.

Michelangelo turned to look at the knitted giraffe on his hand, overacting completely as he spoke to it, "What a pleasant idea, Mr. Gaffy. You sure know how to have fun." He expectantly turned to look at his siblings, the question still hanging in the air around the campfire, which Don obsessively stared at, fearing it might destroy them all.

His brothers made no effort to answer the youngest, as they simply avoided eye contact with him altogether.

"Oh, c'mon!" Mike insisted, taking off the mitten. "It would be totally bodacious if we all went skinny-dipping in the lake!"

"We're always nude," Leo pointed out the obvious, staring at Mikey from across the fire.

"You know what I mean!" Mikey waved off the comment. "I know April packed towels for all of ya. So what do ya say?" he anticipatively stared at each and everyone of his brothers, waiting for one of them to cave. His gaze landed on a disturbed looking Donnie sitting on his right.

Don broke his gaze from the faint flames as he noticed his little brother staring at him. "What if someone sees us?" he piped in his defence, using the good point as more of an excuse than anything else.

"I've seen you naked before, you know. And while it _is_ a scary sight, I don't think it's anything to worry about," Mikey joked, earning a frown from the turtle in purple.

"Clever," Donatello mumbled, turning back to stare at the fire.

"I was just kidding, Donnie!" Mike chuckled, nudging the turtle next to him with his elbow. "I'm sure you have a very nice tooshie."

This got Don's eyes to widen, a combination of feeling embarrassed and grossed out filling up his being. "Now I'm _definitely_ not going swimming," he decided, noticing a smiling Leo across the fire. After sending the oldest turtle a glare, his teasing smile quickly wore off.

"C'mon guys!" Mikey pushed, trying convince his siblings it was a good idea. "We haven't showered since we left the farm. Water'll do ya good!"

"Way ta convince us, Mike," Raph mumbled, turning his head to look at his brother. "Tellin' us we _smell_ bad."

"Well you _do_," Michelangelo replied, not bothering to sugar-coat the truth.

A silence fell over the group, as each of them returned to stare at the campfire. Finally, the oldest turtle broke the silence, "I don't smell _that_ bad, do I?"

"Please, Leo," Raph grunted, sitting up from his laid-back position. "Can'cha recognize a trick when ya hear one?" He looked at his brother for a moment, before trying to get comfortable against the log again.

Leonardo visibly calmed down, although not after discreetly sniffing one of his armpits for any divergent scent. That's when the red masked turtle chose to speak,

"And now that'cha mention it, you _do_ smell kinda bad."

"All right, that's it!" Leo decided, rising to his feet and fetching the bucket of water Don had brought them. "Grab your towels," he ordered, before pouring the bucket of water over the fire, putting it out with a frizzling sound, smoke blowing up afterwards.

The three turtles watched their oldest brother stomp off to his and Don's tent, unzipping the door and crawling inside. His green behind remained on the outside as he went through his backpack, looking at them through the open tent.

"You heard the man," Mikey said, tearing his brothers' grossed out eyes from their Fearless Leader's ass. "Grab your towels, cuz we're going swimming!" A happy turtle sprinted off towards his own tent to get the things he would need for the dip.

Two sighing turtles rose from the ground, knowing it would be many hours until Mike felt ready to get out of the water. Raph followed the youngest turtle to their tent, while Donnie stayed behind to make sure the fire had been put out properly.

After all, one could never be too cautious with fire.

* * *

Leonardo scrubbed the soap in his hands, trying to work up some bubbles, whilst standing in knee-deep water. The bad smell comment had really gotten to him, as he for the third time scrubbed his entire body with the soap, being careful of leaves and other things that floated in the water. He had come here for one reason and one reason only - to wash himself.

"You done with the soap yet?" an irritated Raphael asked, standing a few feet away from his brother. The sun was setting and the water was rather cold, especially as most of his body was kept _above_ the surface.

"Hold on, okay?" Leo replied impatiently, frantically scrubbing with the soap in his armpits, ignoring the look of disgust Raph sent him. After dipping the soap in the water another time, to work up a new set of bubbles, Leo was forced to look up at the sudden voice of his baby brother.

What he saw made his eyes widen in complete terror.

"TIDAL WAVE!" The cry was followed with the splash of the century.

Leo did his best to escape the monstrous flood of water that gained on him, his legs tramping through the water in slow-motion. He felt as though he was stuck in a dream, where neither force or speed would move his legs closer to the shore, as the wall of water easily caught up with him.

In one last cry of defeat, Leo's body was buried underneath the Michelangelo-made wave that swallowed him.

All that was left of the oldest turtle was the lonesome soap that drifted up on shore, the shrinking wave guiding it up on the rocky beach. Donatello watched as the soap floated up next to him, only to drift back out with the water as it retreated. He casually focused on tying the knot on his bandanna, which he'd removed during the short period of time he was in the water.

Not long after that, the oldest turtle found his way back to the surface, covered in weed, mud and old leaves that he made contact with at the bottom.

"_MIKEY!_" the leader yelled, recovering from the amount of water he swallowed in the unfortunate accident.

"Oh, c'mon, Leo!" Mike shrugged, the wet tails of his mask glued to his face as he swam a safe distance from his brother. "A little water's never hurt anyone." As if to tease his big brother even more, Mike childishly splashed a few drops of water on the upset turtle.

"Oh, stop it, Mike!" Leo hissed, frantically searching the water for the lost soap.

Raphael noticed the white soap as it floated past him on its way back out with the water, and quietly took a few steps away from the shore to catch it. He mutely picked it up and happily began to wash himself.

It didn't take long for Leo to discover where the soap was, as he turned around to meet his grinning brother. "Give it back, Raph!" he ordered, an arm outstretched as he did.

"Right.." Raph snorted, scrubbing his armpits with exaggeration, only to infuriate the dirty leader even further.

Leo growled in irritation, disgustingly trying to wipe the dirt off of his arms, still spitting water. He knew Raph wasn't going to let go of that soap until he felt he was finished with it. There was nothing Leonardo could do but wait for his turn. So after having gotten rid of most of the mud and leaves that cling to his wet body, Leo folded his arms around him, realizing it was rather cold were he stood, the water reaching up to his ankles.

Raphael noticed his freezing brother, and instead of speeding up the washing process, he decided to repeat the procedure a second time. After dipping the soap in the lake, he felt something slipping by his left thigh. When turning his head around to find out what it was, Raph discovered a snake swimming past him in the water.

_"WHOA!"_ the turtle screamed in shock, splashing through the water to head back for the safety of the shore.

The sudden turmoil immediately woke his brothers' attention, as each of them turned to look at the usually macho teenager as he in panic fled up on the beach, fear visible on his twisted features.

"What happened?" Don asked curiously, titling his head to able to look at the scared turtle standing next to him.

"A snake juz tried ta bite me!" Raph revealed, motioning with his hand to where he had been standing when the animal 'attacked.'

"A _SNAKE_?" Leo shrieked, girlishly fleeing the ankle-deep water.

The only turtle still left in the lake was Michelangelo, who didn't seem the slightest bothered by the news. Instead he smiled sadistically, taking a moment to laugh at his two older brothers, making sure to point at them for a more powerful effect.

"It's not funny!" Raph angrily defended himself, standing with the soap clutched in his grip. He noticed Donatello giggling next to him and turned to kick the seated turtle. "Shut up!" he warned, causing Don to stifle his laughter. "It was really big, okay!"

"I'm sure," Donnie agreed sarcastically, quickly crawling away from Raph before he had the chance to kick him again. "It really tried to bite ya?" he asked, not looking very convinced of it.

"It _did_! I'm tellin' ya," Raph insisted, trying to overpower the laughter of his brothers. "It was _huge_!" The statement simply caused the two youngest ninjas to laugh even harder.

"_I_ believe you," Leonardo said, offering Raph a comforting look where he stood on the beach, six feet away from him.

Even though this came from someone who even closed his eyes when spotting a snake on television, Raphael found some comfort in one of his brothers believing him, although it was very little comfort.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later the sun was halfway gone in the horizon, painting the sky with a pink color. Leo had dared himself back into the water. He was still terrified of the snake Raph spotted, but his fear of dirt won over his fear of snakes. So the turtle simply stepped back into the water to wash himself up, watchful eyes scanning the water around him for anything long and pointy. A few sticks floating by did scare him the living crap out of him, but he persistently stayed, scrubbing his armpits with the soap.

Raphael on the other hand, still stood on land, his lathery arms crossed on his chest. After fleeing the snake and seeking shelter on the shore, Raph more or less ordered Don to hand him his towel. But Donnie was strict on making sure none of them dried themselves on any of the towels while still covered in soap, so Raph set off after him.

Eventually, Raph got tired of chasing Don around the lake for his towel, and settled for standing with his arms crossed on his wet plastron, sulking. He was cold and covered on soap from head to toe, yet the turtle was still set on not getting back into the water. Even Michelangelo's taunting wouldn't push him into doing it.

"Oh, c'mon, Raph," Leo said where he stood, the water not reaching any higher than to his knees. "It's gone. It's safe to wash off."

"That's easy fer you ta say," Raph hissed in the cold, his teeth on the verge of clattering. "It didn't try ta bite _you_!"

Leonardo rolled his eyes, whilst a wrinkly Mikey giggled as he swam around in circles. Leo turned to Donatello for support. "Tell him, Don. The snake's gone."

Donnie nodded where he sat on the shore, next to a dripping Raphael. "He's right. Your splashing and screaming scared it away," the brainy turtle confirmed.

This only caused Michelangelo to laugh even harder, while Raph managed to kick the purple masked turtle with his cold foot. "Ya didn't see it, a'right!"

"Raph, c'mon," Leonardo sighed, washing the soap of off himself. "Just.. just dip yourself. Real quick. It won't even take a second."

"Hell no!" Raph refused, his temper beginning to rise at their constant nagging.

A clean Leo simply shook his head, stepping out of the water with the soap in his hand. Donatello rose to his feet and kindly handed him his towel, which Leo took with a polite "thank you." The little scene only made Raph's eyes darker, as he knew the rules about the towels.

As long as there was soap left on him, there'd be no towel.

The red masked turtle angrily watched as Leo dried himself off with the towel, only to give it back to Donnie as a dry and happy turtle. He calmly tied his blue, dry bandanna back on and turned to look at Raph with a Hollywood-smile, his perfect teeth gleaming in the light of the sunset.

As Raph stood there, too scared and stubborn to wash himself off in the water, a sneaky Mike swam up to him, close enough to splash his older brother to the point where a single inch of his body wasn't dry.

A cold, angry Raphael turned to glare at the youngest turtle, his soap slowly running down his soaked body. "Oh, I'll _get'cha_ for that, Mikey," he growled, wiping the cold water off of himself with his hands.

Donatello happily handed him the towel, now that he wasn't covered in soap anymore, and Raph angrily snatched it out of his brother's grip, moving on to drying himself.

"What're ya talking about, dude?" Mike innocently said with a smile. "I just did ya a favor."

"Oh, I'll do ya a favor!" Raph cried, tossing both his towel and his fear aside as he ran into the water, hunting his little brother down, like a missile would its target.

Donatello bent down to pick up the towel, watching as his two brothers splashed around in the water like mad horses. "You think we should leave?" he asked, turning to look at the blue masked turtle to his left.

Leo's gaze was still fixated on the wrestling pair in the water, witnessing as Raph made an attempt to drown the smaller ninja. "Yeah, this could probably take a while," he agreed.

Donnie nodded, standing with Raph's wet towel hanging over one of his arms. A smile suddenly spread across his face as an idea hit him. "You think we should bring their towels?" he asked, a sneaky expression turned to Leo.

The oldest turtle lit up at the idea, thinking it was a very good prank. After all, walking back to the camp would take at least ten minutes. Doing so wet and cold would probably piss his younger brothers off a tad, if not a lot.

"See, _that_'s why you're the smart one," Leo said, pointing at his purple masked brother with a grin.

Together, the two boys packed their belongings and turned to walk back the way they came, their two brothers still wrestling each other in the lake.

* * *

Two happy turtles sat by the campfire, the oldest writing down today's events in his journal while the younger tried to read up on his flora, recalling a few unfamiliar flowers he spotted while hiking earlier. Although it was hard for him to tare his attention away from the fire in front of him, fearing it might spread and destroy everything within miles around.

While sitting there, staring at the fire, Don spotted something else in the dark forest; two figures hugging themselves while walking.

"Leo," Donnie said, trying to get his older brother's attention. "Leo!" he was forced to call a second time.

The blue masked turtle looked up from his journal, the pen still ready in his hand. "What?" he wondered.

Donnie motioned with his head towards their two brothers, who's angry voices could be heard muttering something in the dark. Leo gave a faint smile to his brother before returning to write in his book, deciding he wasn't going to let his two brothers bother him.

Donatello tried doing the same, one eye still focusing on the two approaching turtles.

"Look, Mike!" one of them yelled, doing so loud enough so Don and Leo would hear him. "It's them two idiots that stole our towels!"

"Why, I think you're right, Raph!" Michelangelo answered, as if they had rehearsed their lines on their back to the camp. "So, what do ya say we do about it?"

"I say we beat the shell out of them!"

"Oh, you're on, dude!" the reply came, as the two of them finished off their little play by high-fiving each other.

Leonardo just shook his head, not the least threatened by the little show his two brothers put up. Donnie, on the other hand, started feeling rather uncomfortable, his eyes darting from the fire to his angry brothers. Deciding to follow Leo's lead, he turned back to his book, studying a picture of a yellow flower of some sorts.

"Well," a deep voice spoke behind him. "If it ain't our dear brothers."

"And would you look at that!" Mikey filled in, pointing to a group of wet towels that hung from the branch of a tree. "Our towels!"

"Did you have a nice walk?" Leo asked, still writing in his journal.

The two wet hikers turned to glare at their oldest brother, none of them appearing to be very amused by the comment.

"What's that?" Raph asked, noticing the book their Fearless Leader wrote in.

"Is that a _diary_?"Mikey mocked, his cheerful self beginning to show itself again.

Leonardo looked up at his baby brother, a strict look on his face. "For your information, Mikey, it's called a journal." He then returned to writing in it.

"And what _is_ a journal, if not a fancier name for _diary_," Mike said, giggling over his own joke while Raph walked up to the tree to fetch their towels.

"It's _not_ a diary," Leo insisted as he looked up at his brother, his teeth clenched as he spoke. "It's a place to file your thoughts. To write down important events that occurred during the day."

"So, basically..." Mike trailed, holding his gaze locked on Leo. "...a diary!" he concluded.

Leo shook his head, deciding it wasn't worth it. Instead he returned to his journal, writing down mean things about his youngest brother.

Raphael walked up to Mike, handing him his towel while wrapping his own around himself.

"Did ya know Leo kept a diary?" Mikey asked, making sure he pronounced the final word loud and clear.

"Can't say I did," Raph answered, an evil grin curving his lips. "Not that I'm surprised," he quickly added, breaking into fits of laughter with Mike.

"Dear Diary," Mikey began, making fun of Leonardo as he wrote in his book. "Forgive me, for I have sinned. It's been two days since I last meditated."

This caused even Don to giggle, as Mikey did his best impression of Leo with his journal.

"I've thought about taking some time to do it in the forest, but for some reason Mike can't seem to stop bothering my about my diary. I told him it was a journal, but that was of course just an excuse to appear more masculine. I only hope he won't find the nail-polish in the bottom of my backpack."

Leonardo quietly focused on writing, trying to block out the voices and laughter of his siblings. Meanwhile, Mikey continued with his impersonation of the oldest,

"I don't like Mike, partly cuz he's the most attractive of us all, but _mostly_ because he's so immature. Sometimes I wonder if he'll _ever_ grow up."

"You know what," Leo finally said, slamming his journal shut, looking up at his three brothers. "I have an idea what we could do."

"Really?" Mikey asked, completely unaware of the Fearless Leader's intentions.

"Yeah," Leo nodded, acting as if he was the happiest turtle in the world. "How about if we all gathered around the fire and told ghost stories?"

This caused Mikey's smile to drop, as he was forced to swallow a lump that suddenly built up in his throat. "All right," he decided, his smile growing back on as he found new strength within himself. "But only if I get to go first."

"Deal," Leo agreed, getting up to put away his journal and fetch the flashlight in the tent.

* * *

The four brothers sat around the campfire, Mikey armed with the flashlight, directing the light from the chin to light up his face in that classic 'I'm telling ghost stories' manner. His three brothers looked mildly amused as he came towards the end of his very long and very complicated story, because, being who he was, Mike couldn't quite remember the whole story and had to go back and do some changes every other second. Finally, he was at the part they had all been wishing and praying for - the end.

"...and so then the dudette said, 'But my dad's been dead for eight years'," Mikey finished, expectantly turning to look at his brothers, discovering three unimpressed and rather bored looking faces. "Get it?" he asked, assuming they must have misunderstood the story since they weren't scared. "You know, cuz he gave the old guy a lift."

Their expressions remained the same.

"And he was _dead_!" Mikey explained, waiting for any kind of reaction from his siblings.

"A'right, my turn," Raph declared, reaching over to snatch the flashlight from his brother.

"No, but you don't get the story!" Michelangelo protested.

"We get it," Donnie replied, looking at Mike from across the fire. "It just wasn't scary."

"It's totally scary," Mike insisted, refusing to let go of the flashlight. "You just didn't understand it."

Raphael wrestled his brother for the flashlight, while Mikey held onto with both hands, lying in fetal position on the ground with the flashlight in his grip.

"Well, maybe you told it wrong," Leo suggested as Raph stole the flashlight in one final pull of strength.

"I didn't _'tell it'_ wrong!" Mike shot up into a sitting position as he defended himself. "I know how the story goes, Leo! Some guy picks up a hitch-hiker in the middle of no where, and later finds out he was a ghost!"

"Okay, so you _didn't_ tell it wrong," Leo gave in, rolling his eyes at his little brother. "It just wasn't scary then."

"It is _too_ scary!" Mike cried, getting genuinely upset about it.

"Shut up, Mike," Raph nonchalantly ordered, placing the lit flashlight underneath his chin. "I'll give ya a _real_ ghost story," he said, his mouth curving into a grin of pure evil, one that even made Don and Leo cringe.

"A'right," Raph began, setting the mood by lowering his voice to a suiting level. "So this story takes place in the forest... actually, it's _this_ forest, but from what I heard it's a few miles away from here, so I wouldn't worry."

Mikey nervously bit the inside of his cheek, glancing at Donatello with a worried expression.

"Anyway," Raphael continued, suppressing the sadistic grin that threatened to break out, doing his best to stay in character and remain serious. "Casey told me about these hikers, some teenagers that decided ta head upstate for the spring break. They went in two groups, one group bein' a bunch'a girls, while the other group were boys only. Now I dunno if ya know this," he said, turning to look at each of his brothers, "but there are actually _two_ hikin' trails ta follow in these woods. So each group decided ta take different trails, ta see who would get back first."

"Ooooh," Mikey mocked, making a face at his red masked brother. "I'm _sooo_ scared."

Raphael only ignored the comment, sending his brother a glare before he went on with the story. "It took the guys four days ta finish the trail, and when they got back where they started they didn't see the girls, so they figured they beat 'em ta the punch and sat down ta wait for 'em. Y'know, so they could tease 'em about it, do a little victory dance, I dunno," Raph shrugged.

Donnie faintly smiled, as the other two turtles listened to Raph's words with great interest, falling deeper and deeper into his story, especially Michelangelo.

"By the time it was night," Raphael continued, focusing his attention on Mike next to him, "the girls still hadn't showed, so the guys figured they'd camp there for the night, assumin' the chicks would be back by mornin', right? Anyway, after they'd set up their tents and gone ta bed, one of 'em woke up in the middle of the night, thinkin' he heard someone scream!"

Mikey's eyes widened, as he nervously fiddled with Mr. Gaffy tucked inside his belt.

"N' it wasn't like juz _any_ scream," Raph explained, piercing his eyes into the youngest turtle. "It was this really, high-pitched girl-scream. Like almost somethin' only dogs can hear. Kinda like Leo when he saw that snake yesterday," he said, grinning at his oldest brother.

"Oh, ha ha," Leo frowned, not the least amused by the joke. "Very funny, Raph. If I remember correctly, you screamed pretty bad yourself back down by the lake."

"Can it, Leo," Raph said, pointing the flashlight at their leader. "Yer ruinin' the story."

"Yeah, Leo," Mikey agreed, completely drawn in by his older brother's words. "You're ruining the story."

Leonardo just sighed as Raph pointed the light back to himself, once again lowering his voice to put them in the right mood.

"When he heard the scream, he got really scared," the red masked turtle continued, once again facing Mikey. "But he didn't' want any of the others ta think so, so he didn't wake 'em up about it."

Mike nodded, obviously understanding where the boy in the story was coming from.

"So anyway," Raph said, glancing at his other two brothers for a short moment before returning his attention to Mike. "Next mornin' when they woke up, the girls _still_ hadn't showed. They decided ta wait for 'em, figuring they'd be there soon, right?"

Mikey nodded, spellbound but the story.

"But the day passed, the sun set and the girls still didn't show up," Raphael revealed, causing the youngest turtle's eyes to widen in fright. "The guys didn't have any food or anythin' left, so they had ta get back ta their car. It turned out both cars were still there, so the girls were for sure still left in the woods. This worried the guys, especially the one who heard that scream, so they packed up their stuff an' went back into town, where they called their parents about it. Their folks told 'em ta report the girls missing, so they called the cops up here.

"The cops didn't take it very serious but they drove up here with their dogs an' all that ta search for 'em," Raph said, glancing at Leo for a short second before he turned back to Mike. "Anyway, they found them a few miles from here, deeper into the woods." He motioned with his head into the dark forest, his brothers cautiously following with their eyes.

"But when they found 'em, they all had _white_ hair!" Raph revealed, causing Mikey's eye ridges to shoot up in fear.

"Wait," the youngest turtle suddenly said. "Whaddaya mean 'white hair?' What does that mean?" On instinct, he turned to Donatello for an answer, who, like always, had one ready in store for him.

"If someone gets scared enough, their hair will turn white from the trauma," he revealed, causing his little brother's eyes to bulge in terror. "It's actually rather common with near death experiences and stuff like that. That the person receive these white tufts of hair. Although I've never heard of anyone's hair turning _completely_ white," he added, turning to look at Raph with an unimpressed glare.

"Well they did," Raph insisted, lighting Don straight in his eyes with the flashlight. "Ask Case, their hair had turned all white."

_"Really?"_ Mike questioned, his voice sounding both scared and impressed. "What happened to 'em?"

Raphael lit up, focusing the flashlight on himself again. "Well, ya see, that's the thing," he said, his eyes gleaming with evil. "No one knows what happened to 'em. None a' the girls said a _word_ after they found 'em."

"What?" Mike cried, his eye ridges moving north on his face. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Raphael nodded. "The only thing the cops had ta go on was that scream one of the guys heard that night. But it didn't make any sense, cuz the girls were too far away for the scream ta reach all the way _there_."

"So, no one knows what happened to 'em?" Mikey asked, barely breathing at this point.

"No," Raph confirmed. "They haven't told a soul about it. All I can tell ya is that it musta' been pretty bad, I mean ya heard what Donnie said about the hair." He motioned with his head towards the turtle in question.

Mike nodded silently in understanding.

"Now, I don't know if this part's true or not," Raph continued, once again grabbing the youngest turtle's attention. "But Casey told me that there's been a bunch'a hikers up here, that's reported hearin' girls screamin' at night. And ya wanna know what the scary thing is?" he asked, earning a slow nod from his little brother. "They _all_ took the same trail those girls did."

With that said, Raph turned off the flashlight, putting it to the ground as he got up on his feet to leave.

"Wait!" Mikey stopped him, scared to the point where he barely dared to move. "Where ya going?"

"Ta bed," Raph stated simply.

"But our tent's over _there_," Mike said, pointing towards the baby-blue tent standing furthest to the right.

"What? Ya think I'm sharin' a tent with _you_?" Raphael questioned, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "Not the way you snore, bro."

"B-But.." Mikey stuttered, not wanting to admit that he was scared. "I thought we were supposed to share a tent."

"So bunk with them if yer scared," Raph shrugged, referring to his other two brothers.

"_Oh_ no!" Leo refused, not prepared to share his tent with more than one person - again. "You're the one who scared him, _you_ bunk with him."

"Well I didn't know he was gonna get all scared!" Raphael said, trying to get off the hook.

"Then you shouldn't've told that story," Donatello pointed out, knowing what Raph was trying to do. "You know how Mikey is. You _knew_ he'd be scared."

"So what if I did?" Raph tried to turn the situation around. "He's not five anymore. He has ta handle these kinda things."

Mikey felt like a child stuck in between his parents in the middle of a divorce. Only instead of his parents fighting for custody of him, they fought about _not_ wanting to take him. And much like he suspected, the decision was finally turned to him.

"Who do _you_ want to sleep with, Mike?" Leo asked, causing all of his brothers to smirk at his choice of words.

"Maybe you should _rephrase_ the question?" Don suggested, a look of mild amusement on his face.

Leo sighed in frustration, rolling his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Who do you wish to share a tent with, Michelangelo?"

Everyone's attention was turned to the youngest turtle.

"Um... well.." Mikey stuttered, his eyes wavering back and forth between his brothers, none of them seeming to want him. But Mikey ignored this and chose what he felt he wanted.

"Oh no!" Raph forbid, once his little brother turned to look at him with his puppy dog eyes. "Fergit it, Mike! There's no _way_ I'm sleepin' in that tent with ya!"

* * *

"Raph?"

Raphael grunted, mentally kicking himself for giving into his baby brother and his damned puppy dog face. One of these days he would have to learn to ignore that.

"Raph, are you awake?"

The older turtle kept his eyes closed, hoping Mike would leave him alone if he thought he was asleep.

"Ra-aph?"

_I'm not cavin' this time, Mike_, he thought stubbornly, thinking his brother would go back to sleep it he didn't answer him.

"Raph?" Mike began shaking him, pushing him by his left shoulder.

_"WHAT?" _Raphael cried in irritation, turning around to look at his brother. "What is it _this_ time, Mike? Cuz I sure as hell didn't no girl screamin'!"

Michelangelo mutely stared at his brother, fear visible in his eyes. "I have to pee," he finally revealed.

"So go pee, then!" Raph answered, turning his shell to the other turtle, trying to get comfortable with his pillow. "See what I care."

A moment of silence passed, in which Raph managed to close his eyes, finally relaxing as the arms of sleep embraced him. All of his thoughts and anger drifted off in the soothing darkness that embedded him.

"I can't go alone," Mike's voice reached through time and space, piercing the sleep that nearly overcame him.

"Yer juz gonna hafta," Raph muttered, keeping his back turned to Mikey, refusing to open his eyes.

"But I don't wanna."

"I don't _care_," the older brother answered, clenching his jaw in frustration.

"Raph, I'm scared," Michelangelo insisted, once again shaking the older turtle for attention. "And I _really_ need to pee."

_"FINE!"_ Raph outburst, angrily kicking his sleeping-bag off of himself.

Mike happily unzipped the zipper to their tent, crawling out of it in a hurry.

A not so happy Raphael followed him out into the night, keeping his arms wrapped around himself to protect himself from the cold. He walked after his brother, stepping on various pinecones and roots he didn't spot in the pitch-black darkness, nor did he care. All he wanted was for Mike to pee, so that he could finally crawl down his sleeping-bag and pretend everything was just a bad dream.

"Raph?" Mikey's voice came from behind a tree.

Raphael angrily ignored him, trying to keep the hungry mosquitoes that circled around him at a safe distance, as one would every now and then buzz in his ear.

"Raph?" the call came a little louder the second time.

_"WHAT?"_ Raphael cried, frantically trying to wave off the cloud of bugs around him.

"I'm just checking you're still there," the response came, much to Raph's irritation.

Shortly thereafter Mike came forth from behind the tree, walking behind Raph back to the safety of their tent. Once inside they both crawled down into their sleeping-bags, Mike getting the last word with a quiet "good night."

* * *

Finally, five long minutes later, Raph felt sleep once again returning to claim him. It was something he welcomed with every fibre of his tired being. He felt his arms and legs growing heavy with sleep, his thoughts drifting off with everything else around him. Nothing could keep him from falling asleep, not this time.

"Raph?" a small voice managed to reach through. "Did you hear that?"

Raphael angrily opened his bloodshot eyes, a few veins inside them popping as someone began to shake him by the shoulder.


	8. Bread and water?

**A/N:** _I bet none of you could believe it when you found out this baby was updated, right? Well, believe it! I managed to scrape together enough inspiration to get this chapter down. We'll see about the others, although take my word for it when I say: this story WILL be finished. It's only a matter of time. Thanks for all your support, guys!_

* * *

**Chapter 8 - "Bread and water?"**

With a loud yawn, Donatello stretched his limbs back to life. His gooey eyes were facing upwards, welcoming the fierce sun that shone through the baby blue tent, filling his environment with a My Little Pony-ish sense of being. He tiredly rolled over on his right side to check on his older brother, only to discover that the mattress was empty and the sleeping bag already rolled up in its bag. Don sat up with a puzzled look, rubbing his face once turning to look at his wristwatch, one he'd fished up from inside a cereal box as a kid. By reading the position of Inspector Gadget's exaggeratedly long arms, he realized it was just past six.

He kicked off his sleeping bag and crawled down to the foot of the tent, fetching his bandanna from the outside pocket of his backpack and carelessly tied it around his head. After unzipping the zipper of the tent and peeking outside into the bright morning with squinting eyes, Donnie found his blue-clad brother by the putout campfire, seated in a cross-legged position on the grass with his eyes closed, wearing his entire gear.

"Leo?" he asked, stepping out of the tent and rising to his full height. But there was no answer from the turtle, or even the closest thing to a reaction.

Don carefully approached his brother, walking closer and closer to the unsuspecting back of the eldest. "Leo?" he questioned, putting a hand on his brother's right shoulder to get his attention. "How long have you been ouaaAAH!" His question was quickly transformed into one high-pitched scream once the turtle in question turned around to face him.

"What?" Leo asked, fear creeping onto his features at Donatello's uncharacteristic behavior. "What is it?" he asked, possible explanations attacking his mind, making his four toes curl themselves in fear. "It's not a snake is it?"

"You.. you.. err…" Don stammered, pointing at the blue-masked turtle with a shaky finger.

"_What_!" Leo demanded, his fear reaching its peak.

"What happened to your face?" Donnie finally managed to get out, staring at something that vaguely resembled his oldest brother. The reptile's entire face was infested with dozens and dozens of tiny, reddish spots, some of them bigger than others, while most of them were positioned on top of one another. The turtle's face had swollen up beyond recognition, his green head resembling something that could only be described as the Incredible Hulk covered in acne.

Leo's hysterical features instantly fell. "Oh that," he said, sounding a little annoyed.

"Yeah," Donatello nodded. "Are you like allergic or something?"

Leonardo rose to his feet and shrugged as he walked back to their tent. "Those are mosquito bites," he casually called back to his brother, slipping inside the tent to fetch today's breakfast from his backpack.

"Mos_quito_ bites?" Don repeated, taking a moment to think about it. "That's weird. I didn't get _any_."

"That's only 'cause_ I_ got them all," Leonardo angrily replied from inside the tent.

Donatello sniggered. "You must have that sweet, tasty blood they like so much," he commented, deciding sharing a tent with Leo wasn't so bad. In fact, if he could get Leo to switch rooms with Mikey when they got back to the house, he wouldn't have to worry about another mosquito for the whole summer.

"Ya think?" Leo questioned sarcastically, sticking his swollen face out of the tent. Putting all his weight on his right knee, the turtle rose from the tent with a secured plastic bag in his hand, containing a loaf of bread. He walked up to Don and began the impossible task of untying the knot.

Donnie watched him for a moment when he suddenly thought of something. "Still," he began, turning to his big brother with an analytical facial expression. "What I don't get is how the little bloodsuckers got in. I mean, I was the last one inside the tent, and I'm pretty sure I closed it up. Actually," he added as an after thought. "I remember that part quite well, since the ends of my bandanna accidentally got caught in the zipper." With a frown, the purple-clad turtle fiddled with one of the tails of his mask, where an apparent scar was left from the unfortunate camping accident.

"Yeah, you did close the zipper," Leo confirmed with a swift nod, still trying to untie the not to the bag. "That's why I… nghhh!" he suddenly cried, unsuccessful in untying the knot. "I can't get it open! Who tied this, anyway?"

"_You_ did," Don revealed casually.

"…oh. Right," Leo replied sheepishly, some of his anger disappearing into the oblivion. "Well, it's a good thing I did, or else ants might've gotten inside."

"Right.." Donnie agreed with an unimpressed look on his face. "The ants. So what about the tent? How'd the mosquitoes get inside?"

"Yeah.. that was sort of my fault," Leonardo quietly admitted, still working on the bag. "It was so hot in there, I couldn't fall asleep."

"So you left it o_pen_?" Don questioned, shocked at this sudden twist.

"What was I supposed to do?" Leo wondered. "I was like a sauna in there, and it's not like I excepted I'd wake up looking like _this_!" he cried, pointing to his own, bumpy face.

"Yeah.. but still," Donnie said. "I mean, geeze, Leo. Where are your wildlife manners?"

Leonardo looked up at his brother, trying to bite through the bag, his large teeth exposed.

"Never mind," Don mumbled, leaving to wake up his other two siblings.

* * *

Having been rudely woken up by the Soon To Be Dead-Donatello, Raph tiredly made his way to the comfy half rotten log, where the rest of his family could be found, eating breakfast together with the burning sun as their light, and the birds as their company. The chipper twee-twee songs were making him sick, that or the not so well done fish he had yesterday. And to top it all off, Michelangelo turned to him with a broad smile and greeted him as he stepped over the log to take a seat.

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

It was just the thing he needed to punch someone in the face. However, suppressing this urge, Raph grumbled an incoherent threat and sat down next to his younger brother.

"Well aren't we peachy today," Donnie commented from across the remaining of last night's campfire. "What's the matter, Raph?" he wondered sincerely. "Didn't sleep well?"

"How'd _you_ sleep if Mike woke you up every tenth minute, thinkin' he heard ghosts outside the tent?"

"I'm just gonna take back the question," Donatello nodded and returned to the naked piece of bread slice that was his breakfast.

"Well, if it makes up for any of it, Leo hit puberty last night," Mike said with a grin, pointing to the blue-masked turtle beside Donatello.

"Leo wha..?" Turning to look at the turtle across from him, Raphael quickly realized what his baby brother had meant by 'puberty.' Reacting according to his birth-given instincts, he broke out into a full blow laugh attack, pointing at the freak of nature that resembled his brother.

Leonardo didn't appear quite as amused as Raph.

"Dear god, Leo…" Raphael managed to get out between laughs. "What the… whattahell happened ta ya?"

While smiling, Donnie put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder as he offered the explanation, "Leo's the victim of last night's mosquito attack. And he's pretty sensitive about his face right now."

"Yeah, that means you could stop with the pointing and laughing," Leonardo piped in, while trying to look as though he wasn't that bothered by the situation. "Seriously, Raph. Stop it," he then added, once it seemed the laugher wouldn't die down.

Raphael choke the last of his laughter, although keeping an evil smirk on his features, as he leaned over to look in the brutally ripped open plastic bag lying in the grass. "So," he said, lifting the bag to have a look inside. "What's for breakfast?"

"You're looking at it," Donnie replied as Raphael peeked inside the bag.

Raph pulled out a slice of dry bread and looked at it in disbelief. "What? _This_?" he questioned, waving with the tiny slice in his hand.

Donatello nodded.

"What about some ham ta put on it? Or even some a' that gross cheese we had yesterday?"

"You had _cheese_ for breakfast yesterday?" Leo questioned, outraged to have learned this shocking revelation.

"_Secret_ cheese," Donatello corrected with a stern look at Raphael, having packed the cheese 'off the record.'

"I can't believe you packed cheese behind my back!" Leo exclaimed, sounded genuinely hurt by the news. "Guys, we were _supposed _to live off of nature; all of you agreed to this. Doesn't that mean anything to you? I honestly thou--" His rant was rudely interrupted by a cracking sound coming from Michelangelo's side of the world.

"What?" he asked innocently as the three of them turned to look at him, discovering the youngest turtle munching on a bag of potato chips. It was fairly obvious he hadn't been listening to a word Leo just said, not that it was much of a shock to them.

Leonardo simply sighed in annoyance and allowed the youngest hiker to go back to eating his bag of unapproved snacks. "What else did you pack that I don't know about?" he asked, turning to the other two.

"What _else_?" Donatello huffed shock. "There is no 'else'."

Leonardo eyed him in disbelief.

"Raph packed his Game Boy," the geek quickly surrendered.

"Raphael!" Leonardo exclaimed in disapproval.

"What?" Raph shrugged, not caring much about what his brother thought. "Donnie packed books; yell at him fer a change."

"It was just _one_ book, and it's a book on flora," Donatello as-a-matter-of-factly corrected his brother.

"Who the hell's Laura?" Raph wondered, trying to recall any woman by that name.

"_Flora_. Flowers," Don explained, shaking his head at his brother's ignorance.

"Dude, that is _so_ gay," Mike piped in, deciding to join the conversation.

Donatello's eye ridges shot up on disbelief. "That is not gay. You know what, that's such a judgmental thing to say," he added, getting quite worked up over Michelangelo's statement. "Just because a guy happens to like flowers, and find the act of collecting them and saving them in a book soothing, doesn't mean that…" Trailing off, Don soon realized how queer that last sentence sounded and turned back to Mike in defeat. "Oh, just shut up and eat your chips," he decided, waving a dismissing hand at the youngest.

"Anyway," Raph hopped in, still hung up on the food issue. "Do I get anythin' ta drink with this? Or do I hafta run down ta the lake fer that?"

"There's water in that can right next to you," Leonardo informed, pointing to the plastic object in question.

"Water?" Raph repeated, not sounding very impressed by the fact. "That's it? That's all we get? Bread and _water_?"

"Tonight, there's fish," Leo kindly pointed out, although it didn't make Raph look much happier.

* * *

Before everyone had strapped on their backpacks and began the hiking session of the day, Raph swiftly let them know he had a 'pressing urge' to attend to and ran off into the forest. Now, fifteen minutes later, the restoring turtles did whatever they could think of to survive the boredom. Donatello peacefully looked through his book on flora; trying to recall which flowers he'd run into so far, while Mike took the time to search Mr. Gaffy for any burls. Leo, meanwhile, kept himself busy by pacing back and forth, continuously checking his watch to make sure they'd be able to make the deadline he'd set for them. His nervous behavior quickly spread to the rest of the group, Don turning the pages in his book with an insane speed, while Mikey reached for his bag of chips to take comfort in eating. Finally, the leader couldn't take it anymore,

"What on earth are you doing in there, Raph?" he demanded, prying in the direction where his brother was safely hidden behind some trees and bushes. Mike's compulsive eating of chips came to an abrupt stop, as well as Donnie's brushing past pages.

"The hell do ya think, Einstein?" Raph called back to his brother from his hideout.

"Well, then why is it taking so god damn long?" Leo wondered.

"If ye really wanna know, o Fearless Leader," came the sarcastic reply from the bushes, "I can't find anythin' ta wipe my ass with!"

The irritation on Leonardo's features was instantly replaced with a strong look of repulsion. _Actually, I did not want to know that_, he silently commented in his mind, trying to get rid of the gross image he was offered every time he blinked. "Well, use a leaf or something," he suggested, not sure what else to say to his brother in this awkward moment.

"Ooh.." Mikey grimaced. "I wouldn't do that if I was him."

"Why not?" Leo wondered, quickly realizing he didn't want to know the answer to that. Unfortunately, it was already too late by then.

"Well," Mike began, "when I did my business, I found that the leaf thing really just smeared it out."

"Smeared it out?" Leonardo repeated with a nauseous look.

"Yeah," Mikey nodded. "I dunno, maybe I was just doing it wrong or something. But it wasn't pretty, I can tell ya that."

"I seriously doubt you did it wrong," Don said where he'd just finished re-packing his book. "How many ways can there actually be to wipe your butt?"

Soon, another message came from the crouching turtle in the bushes, "I can't find any leafs!"

"Well… what do you see?" Donatello called back, doing his best to help his brother. Mike and Leo shared a quick look, none of them liking this sudden turn of events.

"I dunno.. some pinecones, bugs and…" the turtle trailed off. "Ugh, I think it's a dead mouse or somethin'." Silence followed and the three remaining brothers shared worried looks amongst each other.

Meanwhile, Raphael searched for a stick to poke the tiny carcass with. He soon found a twig and reached over to nudge the stiff rodent. "Yeah," he called back to the others. "I've just taken a dump next to a dead vole!"

Groans of disgust came from the camp.

"Just look for anything you could use," Don assisted from afar. "Search the ground around you. What are you sitting on?"

Raph did as he was told and looked around him, realizing he was sitting on a giant mat of crispy-dry moss. He frowned in disgust, not wanting to do what he knew he had to.

* * *

A few minutes later, the red-clad turtle emerged from the bushes, causing Donnie and Mike to rise in interest.

"What did you use?" Donatello wondered, a little too curious for what was considered 'normal.'

Raph stopped in his tracks, glaring at the brainiac turtle. Finally, with a swift shake of his head, he finally answered, "Ye don't wanna know." It had taken him quite a while to get rid of the tiny bits of moss that had gotten stuck in-between his buttocks, and it was one of those experiences he wouldn't tell anyone about – ever.

"All right," Leo cut in, standing ready with the map in his hands. "Let's just get going." The three brothers complied and strapped their backpacks onto their shells, walking behind the navigating turtle.

"Dude," Mikey said as he walked up next to Donatello, the plastic bags around their feet making swooshing noises as the walked. "I still can't believe ya coached Raph when he did number two."

Don glared at the youngest and picked up his pace to make sure _that_ conversation didn't lead any further.

* * *

"_Oooeeeuuu eeeeuuuu eeeeeuuuu eeeeeeeeee! I'm gonna WALK like a man, TALK like a man. WALK like a man my so-o-o-on. No woman's worth, crawlin' on the eeearth. So walk like a man my so-on! Oooeeeuuu eeeeuuuu eeeeeuuuu eeeeeeeeee! Oooeeeuuu eeeeuuuu eeeeeuu---"_

"For everything that is holy, _please_ stop singing, Mike!" Donatello outburst, his ears having just about had it with the wailing hits of the 60's.

Mike took off his earphones, a perplexed expression on his face. "D'you say something, Donnie?" he wondered casually as they walked.

Donatello just shook his head in despair, knowing there was no use in answering.

"At least he heard you," Leo commented from in front of them. "He didn't even react when Raph yelled for him to shut up."

Mikey looked ahead and noticed for the first time since plugging in his music how far ahead of them the red-masked turtle had gotten; he couldn't even see him anymore. It didn't take a Donnie to understand that he was sick of his signing and fleeing the field to where the musical cries weren't as loud.

"You don't like the Four Seasons?" Mike wondered, hurrying to catch up with Donnie to walk next to him.

"Dear _god_ no!" Don replied, cringing at the mere thought of another verse, or what's worse – another chorus!

"Well," Mike began, pulling his headphones back over his head, although with slightly lower volume to hear the others as he skipped through the tracks on his mp3 player. "What about the Beach Boys?"

Donatello shivered in response, and Mike took that as a sign to search some more. "Limp Bizkit?" he wondered.

"How can even Limp Bizkit and the Beach Boys share the same sentence?" Leo turned around to ask over his shoulder as they walked.

Michelangelo grinned. "What can I say? A dude's got wide taste. In fact," he added, turning back to fiddle with the tiny device in his hands. "I'm sure there's something here the two of you'd like."

Don and Leo groaned in unison, knowing there was no way out for them. Suddenly, they found themselves envying Raph to a degree they'd never experienced before. Head start was such a pretty thought.

"C'mon!" Mike urged. "Any requests?"

"Yeah, I'd like for you to put a sock in it," Leo muttered in irritation.

"Leo," Mike chuckled, waving off the insult as if had been nothing but a joke. "Just humor me for once."

"Mikey," Leo began in a serious tone of voice, "even if there was a mere chance you might have anything worth listening to on that thing, your singing would just butcher it." Donatello snickered in response.

"Oh, c'mon, Leo!" Mikey waved the comment off. "I'm not _that_ bad. Plus, you could all sing along if ya want to."

Leo choked on his laugher. "Forget it, Mike. I'm not singing – period."

"Oh c'mon, bro!" Mike insisted. "It'll cheer ya up. There's nothing like singing when ya have to walk a long distance."

"I said no," Leo replied, firmly sticking to his decision.

"Fine, be a kill-joy," Mike decided, turning his attention to his purple-clad turtle, whom he was walking next to. "What about you, Donnie?"

"No thanks," the turtle blankly replied.

"Donnie, c'mon. You've got such a beautiful voice. It'd be a terrible thing to waste it singing in the shower."

Donatello turned to look at him in surprise, but soon swallowed his shock as he forced himself to sober up. "I don't sing in the shower. I have no idea where you got that impression."

"No?" Mikey questioned with a smirk. "Then I guess this doesn't sound familiar?" Clearing his throat, Mike lowered his voice a few notes before he opened his mouth to do his best impression of Computer-geek Standing in the Shower, "The phaaaaaaaaaantom of the opera is theeeeere, inside your mind."

Donnie blushed visibly, knowing he was busted, while at the same time wondering how much more his spying little brother had heard. After all, 'The Phantom of the Opera' wasn't the only musical he had secretly took a liking to.

"So, now that we've got your slightly fruity skeleton out of the closet, what do ya say to a song?"

"No," Don insisted, not very persuaded by his little brother's clumsy attempt to win him over.

"Oh please, Donnie?" Mike switched to begging. "It would be so much fun! And you really do have a pretty voice."

Not wanting to admit it, Don was secretly beginning to enjoy the flatter, even if it was a lie in its truest form.

"C'mon," Mikey said, playfully nudging his brother with his right elbow as they walked. "You sure there's no song you've had on your mind since we left the house?"

* * *

"What brings you here?" Raphael wondered as Leonardo appeared next to him, slightly tired from having walked so fast to catch up with him.

"You'd never believe me if I told you," Leo replied, shaking his head as if he couldn't even believe it himself.

"Try me," Raph grinned, strong steps leading him forward.

Leonardo grabbed the red-masked turtle's left upper arm and forced him to stop.

"What?" Raph questioned, slightly bothered by the out-of-the-blue stop. He didn't like it when people touched him like that for no apparent reason.

"Schhh," Leo hushed, staring at nothing in particular as he spiked his ears to hear something far off in the distance. "Listen," he said, holding his breath to catch the faint voices.

Raphael took a moment to expand his ninja hearing and discovered the muffled noise behind them. "What the hell is that?" he wondered.

"Listen," Leo insisted.

Soon, Raph was able to identify the noise as Michelangelo and Donatello; and the song? Well…

_"I've… had the time of my li-i-ife, and I've neeever felt like this before. Yes I swear, it's the tru-u-uth – and I owe it all to yo-o-ou!"_

As if discovering they had a pack of hungry wild animals behind them, Raph grabbed Leo's wrist and fled deeper into the forest, widening the distance between them and his other two brothers.

* * *

"What are we having? What are we having?" Mikey wondered, rummaging through Leonardo's backpack, where the bigger part of their food supply was stored.

"If you'd give me enough space to breathe," Leo cut in, trying to get past his nosy brother, "I might just be able to reach it."

Mikey giddily stepped aside, almost like an anxious dog that was jumping around – waiting to be fed – and allowed his brother to look through his own backpack. Don and Raph had already gotten comfortable on the ground with their shells against an old rock (a.k.a. minor mountain), and simply enjoyed the act of doing just nothing at all. Donnie took the time to untie the plastic bag around his foot, stretching out his leg with a dramatized moan.

Raph turned to him with a cheesed off expression, "Do ya really hafta do that while I'm sittin' here?"

"Well, geeze, Raph," Donatello said, tenderly rubbing his sore foot. "After a day like this in a bag closed off from all oxygen, my foot really needs to breathe."

"Yeah well, yer foot breathin' sorta gets in the way of _me_ breathin', so I suggest you close that bag back up. Smells like Mikey fell over an' died here." He glanced at Michelangelo, who was too engrossed in the food business to notice the insult.

"While my feet may not smell like breath mints, they sure don't smell like a corpse," Don replied, letting go of his foot and leaning back against the rock. "Certainly not Mikey's corpse," he then added, thinking of the endless possibilities of food and fluids his little brother's body would have to dispose of once it went out of function.

Raphael chuckled to himself and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Yeah," he admitted. "Maybe I went a bit too far on that one."

"That's _it_?"

The two turtles turned to look at the source of the highly disappointed voice. "There's not even like ketchup or anything?" Michelangelo asked as he followed Leo over to the others.

"Nope," Leonardo said, holding a see-through package of raw hotdogs in his hand.

"Not even bread?"

"No, this was all April had," the eldest replied before he put the bag to his mouth and bit it open with his teeth. "Plus, I think you should thank Donnie for this. Was it not for him convincing me to bring this, we'd be off fishing for lunch at this very moment." With that said, Leo slipped his fingers inside the tiny plastic package and pulled out a slimy hotdog for himself, while leaning over to his brothers to offer them some.

"This trip sucks!" Mike decided, sitting down with his brothers to sulk openly.

"Oh, c'mon Mikey," Donnie said, biting into his tasteless sausage. "It's only for a few days, and Master Splinter really needed us off his back."

"I don't care," the orange-banded whined. "Had I known we'd be living off of fish the entire time, I would've never signed up for it." Then, suddenly remembering something, Mikey rose to his feet and approached his backpack, leaving his other three brothers to discuss the difference between a barbecued hotdog and a raw one. He unzipped his bag and bent over to have a closer look. Discovering Mr. Gaffy on top, Mike absentmindedly threw the mitten onto the thick grass and went about with searching his backpack. He was sure there was still some left… "Aha!" With a triumphant smile, Mike grabbed his half empty bag of crackers, holding it up to his brothers as if he'd just found a box of freshly delivered pizza.

After a short moment of staring at the youngest turtle in silence, the others soon carried on with their pointless conversation. Mike proudly strolled up to his family where he took a seat, munching on his crackers while the other fought over how many hotdogs each of them were allowed to have. After not so many seconds of eating, he soon discovered there was at least one guy interested in his crackers.

A curious squirrel came climbing down a tree with his head down and his tail spiked in interest.

The chattering quickly died down as they noticed the brave little squirrel make his way over to a half eaten cracker Mikey'd tossed on the grass in front of him.

"Raph," Mike whispered, frozen stiff where he sat, fearing any movement might scare his new friend away. "Get my camera."

"Get it yerself," came Raphael's natural response.

"Please," Mikey begged. "You're closer to the bag."

Raphael noticed the silent looks of pleading he got from the rest of his brothers, and finally rose from his spot by the rock with a sigh. He carefully stepped around the scene, to make sure the little tree-rodent wouldn't take off in fright. He'd never hear the end of it if he were to scare it away. Reaching Mike's bag, he rested his weight on his heels and reached inside the bottomless backpack for the disposable camera. Recognizing the square shaped object in his hand, Raph grabbed it and started fiddling with the buttons he needed to wind up in order for the device to work.

Meanwhile, by the lunch spot, Donatello had a concerned look on his face as Mike attempted to feed the tiny animal from his hand.

"C'mon," Mike cooed. "Here little fella'. You want this cracker, don'cha?"

"Err… Mikey," Don tried to cut in.

"Schh," Mike hushed him. "You'll ruin it." He quickly turned back to his hairy little visitor and leaned closer with his outstretched palm. "C'mon buddy. I'm not gonna hurt'cha." Three brothers watched in amazement as the squirrel twitchingly made its over to Michelangelo's hand, while Don's worry simply grew more evident on his features.

The squirrel finally reached Mikey's hand; it carefully sniffed on the chubby, green fingertips until it decided it was safe. Putting its little paws on the edge of Mikey's palm, the squirrel jumped into the hand and nabbed the cracker. Still sitting in the hand of the deliriously happy turtle, the creature quickly ate the cracker, stuffing what was left of it inside its mouth. Then, it turned up to look at Mike as if thanking him through its big, dark, alert eyes.

Raphael carefully lifted the camera to his face and poked his eye inside, preparing himself to take the picture.

Then, without much further ado, the squirrel bent over and penetrated Mikey's skin with its sharp teeth, causing Mike to scream bloody murder. Just as the adorable scene took place, Raph pressed the button on top of the camera and a flash went off.

By the time everyone had realized what had happened, and Mikey sucked on his thumb in pain, the squirrel was already long gone, probably watching them from the very top of the tree, laughing.

"Son of a Broccoli!" Mike swore, hysterically waving his hand through the air as if the pain would go away if he waved fast enough. "The little pest bit me!"

"I told you to be careful," Donatello wasn't late to point out, while Raph spent his time shedding tears through his laughter, thanking the gods for the precise moment of him taking that picture.

"No you didn't," Mike said.

"Well, I was going to, but you wouldn't let me," Don corrected him. "Squirrels are kind of infamous for biting people for no apparent reason."

"Well gee, Donnie," Mike said, still waving his hand through the air. "You could've told me that be_fore_ I started sharing my lunch with it!"

Donatello shrugged in response, taking another bite from his hotdog.

Mike took the time to inspect his injury and discovered blood seeping out from his thumb, reminding him of his pain. "I'm bleeding!" he complained, holding up his thumb for everyone to see. "I can't believe the little kleptomania made me bleed!" Naturally, this only caused Raph to laugh harder, so Mikey turned around to look at him with a strict expression. "Cut it out, will ya? I'm in real pain over here, and all you do is _laugh_?"

Raph wiped his eyes clean of tears, trying to breathe.

"Seriously," Michelangelo whined. "Stop it. It's not funny. And it hurts a lot more than it looks like. What if the parasite gave me rabies or something?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Donnie cut in with his ever so trustful knowledge. Mike visibly calmed down a little, having out ruled the chance of him dying any time soon. "Although, it's not impossible it gave you tetanus," Don then added.

"What?" Mike exclaimed in terror.

"Don't worry about it," Don quickly waved off his theory. "Worst case scenario, we'll have to give you a vaccine shot when we get back."

"Vaccine?" Mikey repeated. "Oh my god!" he cried. "I'm gonna lose my thumb!"

"You're not going to lose you're thumb," Leonardo wisely told him.

"No? Who're you to talk?" Mikey wondered. "You've got Malaria." Turning back to his own problems, his caressed his wrist in fear. "I can't believe I might have to amputate my hand.." he softly murmured, horrified.

Donatello just rolled his eyes and bent over to tie his bag back onto his foot. Mike was long gone in Hypochondriac Land; there was nothing he could do for him now.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the chaos, Raphael stifled the last of his laugher and put the camera back inside the bag. Just as he was about to rise and leave, he noticed the lonely oven mitt lying on the green grass, helpless and unprotected. Evil corrupted his features as a crooked grin curved his lips.

"Know what?" he said, snatching the giraffe from the ground like the flawless thief he was and professionally hid it behind his shell. "I'm just gonna take a quick piss before we leave."

* * *

Laughing secretly to himself, Raph happily clutched the straps of his backpack as he walked, knowing he'd never have to see that talking sock ever again. He'd been foolish for not getting rid of it sooner, but that didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that the giraffe was gone, and he was looking forward to what remained of today's walk without Mikey playing word games with the damn thing. His radiating pride went to the point were Don stared at him in curiosity as he was about to walk past him.

"What's up with you?" he wondered, fearing the reason behind the smirk.

"Me?" Raph questioned, a hand pointed to himself. "Oh, I'm fine," he said. "Juz fiiine."

"Hey, guys!" a voice called out behind them. "Wait up!" Michelangelo tiredly ran up to his brothers, breathing heavily as he got the chance to slow down and alongside of them.

"Where'd you go?" Donatello wondered, looking over his shoulder to be able to see his brother.

"I had to take a leak," Mike answered. "And you wouldn't believe what almost happened!" he added dramatically. "I dunno.. I guess I must've dropped him on the way here, but I found Mr. Gaffy lying in the forest by himself."

Raphael noticeably stiffened at the mention of the sock's name. "You did what?" he asked, turning around to make sure he hadn't heard his little brother wrong.

Holding up the oven mitt on his hand, Mike once again spoke through the knitted kitchen supply. "Yup, and I was aaaaaall alone. But now I'm back!" it declared. Michelangelo nodded at his imaginary friend. "That's right," he agreed, putting on his earphones and reaching for his mp3 player in his belt. "And I know just the song to celebrate your return," he said, clicking on the device in search of another 60's hit.


	9. Oh, just a lil' something from Leo's bag

**Chapter 9 – "Oh, just a lil' something from Leo's bag."**

"You know," Michelangelo spoke up as he happily set to hammer the tent peg into the ground, his eldest brother supervising him cautiously from behind. "I just realized: why's it you and I never do anything together?" he wondered, turning to look at his blue-masked brother with a thoughtful expression.

"What?" Leo questioned, looking up from the instructions he had in a tight grip with his hands.

"Well, you know," Mikey started to explain, moving over to work on the next peg. "There's always me and Donnie, or me and Raph... or _you_ and Raph! But there's never us, you know?"

"Yeaaah…?" Leonardo acknowledged, wondering where this conversations was going.

"Why do ya think that is?" Mikey asked, pausing in his work to take a moment to look at his brother with big, curious eyes, as if he'd asked him what the meaning of life was.

"How should _I_ know?" Leo shrugged, lowering his eyes to the manual. "It's just the way it's always been, I guess."

"Yeah, but _why_?" Michelangelo insisted.

"I don't know," Leonardo furrowed his eye ridges in uncharacteristic confusion. "I guess we're just too different. I mean, we have nothing in common or anything."

"For instance?" Mikey wondered.

"Well, you think practice - and this is in your own words – stinks. And frankly, I couldn't care less about your comic books," Leo confessed.

"Sure," Mike nodded in agreement, suddenly putting up a finger in the air as if to make a point. "But then again, how much do ya have in common with Raph? Last time I checked, skull busting wasn't something you did to kill time. And then there's Donnie, for that matter. I mean, you don't have any more in common with him than you do with me."

"Mike," Leo interrupted, a suspicious look on his face. "Where are you getting at?"

"Oh, I dunno," Michelangelo shrugged, proceeding to hammer down the tent pegs with his little rock with a feigned kind of innocence, one Leo recognized all too well. "Just thought we oughta' spend more time together."

"We _are_ spending time together," Leo pointed out, crossing his arms over his plastron while still holding onto the manual with one of his hands.

"Not like _this_, silly," Mikey shook his head with a grin. "I mean, like, doing something together."

"Like what?" Leonardo wondered, getting a little worried about what his little brother might have up his technically non-existent sleeve.

"Well, since you asked – and this is _completely_ out of the blue," Mikey ensured his brother before he ran off to look through his backpack that stood leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree. "I just so happened to know a game we could play." Coming back, he held his infamous mp3 player in his hands, already clicking through the tracks for a song to play.

"We're putting up tents, not performing karaoke," Leo sternly reminded his younger sibling, knowing he was about to be forced into doing something he really, really didn't want to.

"Don't sweat, dude," Mike waved off the leader's worry. "We can play and work at the same time. See," he said, putting on his headphones over his head, "I'll hum a song, and you'll just have to guess which one it is."

"And this is just something you came up with just now?" Leo wondered skeptically.

"Yeah," Mike nodded excitedly.

"_Completely_ out of the blue?"

"Totally."

With a heavy sigh, the leader finally surrendered, "Fine, but I'm not singing anything."

Grinning, Mike didn't seem to care as he worked the device in search of a tune his brother wouldn't be able to recognize. Having found just the perfect song, he plastered a proud smirk on his face before fashionably clearing his throat and bursting out into hum. _"Hmph hmmmmmm. Hmph hmmmmmm. Hmph hmmm, hmph-hmmm hmm hmm hmmmmmm!"_

Scrutinizing his eyes as if he'd be able to hear better, Leo quickly came to the expected conclusion that he had no idea what his brother was humming about. "I don't know. I give up," he said.

"It's Skippy!" Mike revealed with a beaming smile.

"I'm sorry, what?" Leo asked.

"Skippy!" Mikey repeated. "You know, Skippy, the bush kangaroo. Oh, c'mon, Leo! We used to watch it all the time when we were kids."

"Oh yeah? What was it about?" Leo wondered.

"Skippy, the bush kangaroo," Michelangelo revealed the obvious, not earning any intelligent reaction from his brother. "Alright," he gave up, retuning to fiddling with his mp3. "How about this one?" With a dramatic pause, as if to wait for the chorus, Mikey finally began another session of incoherent humming, _"Hmph-hmph hmph-hmph-hmph-hmmmm hmmmphmmm-hmph hmph. Hmph-hmph, hmph-hmph, hmph-hmph, hmph-hmph."_

Snapping his fingers, Leo wracked his brain in trying to place that very familiar tune. "Oh, I know this one," he said, trying to place the song in a movie he knew he'd seen. "It's uh… oh, you know. The one with the Jesus look-alike and the cross. Life of Brian!" he finally exclaimed in victory.

"Wrong!" Mike laughed.

"WHAT?"

"You're wrong," Mikey repeated.

"Mikey, you know I'm right. Don used to watch that movie all the time when we were little; I remember the title. It's 'Monty Python: Life of Brian'."

"True," Michelangelo nodded. "But you're still wrong, cuz the name of the song is 'Always look on the bright side of life', _not_ 'Life of Brian'. So no points for you, Mister I-have-the-memory-of-a-goldfish."

"Oh, c'mon, Mikey, that's not fair!" Leonardo objected, more upset than either of them had foreseen. "I deserve a point for that one. What if I'd said it was the soundtrack to 'Life of Brian'?"

The orange-clad turtle took a moment to consider this where he sat on the grass, surrounded by scattered tent pegs. "Hmph," he finally said. "I guess you do have a point there."

Leonardo grinned victoriously to himself.

"But since you didn't mention anything about a soundtrack, you're still left on zero," Mike then added, causing Leo's smile to vanish faster than a ninja after having tossed a smoke grenade. "I guess you'll just have to do better if you wanna get places in this game," Mikey chuckled at his brother's precious expense.

* * *

Carrying a large collection of sticks and pieces of wood that uncomfortably poked into various body parts, Raphael had his coarse set on the camp as he walked, only to be stopped midstep yet again. 

"Wait," Donatello called out from a few feet behind him.

"What now?" Raph grumbled in obvious irritation.

Standing bent over to inspect a small group of white flowers, Don reached over and picked one of them, rising to his full height to inspect the flower better in the sunlight. "It's a Claytonia virginica," he said, admiring the tiny flower in his hands. "It'll go perfect with my collection." Taking his treasured book from his belt, Don opened a free, blank page and gently placed the flower on it, closing the book together to let it do its magic.

"Y'know," Raphael commented where he stood waiting, quite annoyed over the fact that he was the only one carrying the logs. They were supposed to collect them together, and the only help Donatello had offered in collecting them was complaining on a few of his that he'd thought looked to flammable. "I don't know what's fruitier, the name a' that flower, or the fact that'cha juz saved it in yer little book," Raph finished with a tired glare.

Donatello frowned as he put the book back inside his belt. "It's Latin for Spring Beauty," he explained, starting their twenty-minute walk back to the camp.

"Great," Raph with faked excitement. "That's anotha' piece of vital information I'll rememba' for evah an' evah. Can we go now?"

"Hold on a sec," Donnie said, stopping in his tracks to inspect another group of flowers he'd spotted a few feet away. Careful not to step on any of them, he bent over to inspect them more closely. "Could it be...?" he mumbled to himself, quickly grabbing his travel-sized flora dictionary from his trusty belt.

"Oh, c'mon," Raphael sighed in annoyance. "No more flowers." His arms were getting quite tired of holding the logs. They may not have appeared so heavy at first, but after minutes and minutes of being forced to carry them, his arms felt as though they were on the verge of going on a week's strike.

Flipping through the pages of his book, Don stopped at the image of the flower, turned to double-check the ones in the grass, and then back to the picture in the book. "I was right," he said, bending over to pick one up. "It _is_ a Raphanus raphanistrum." Twirling the tiny plant between his fingers, he admired the petals in awe.

"What?" Raph outburst, whipping around to be able to look at his brother. "Oh, that's real classy, Donnie. Getting back at me fer callin' ya a fruit by namin' some flower afta' me. _Real_ classy."

"What?" Don looked up in surprise. "No, it's its real name. It's Latin for Wild Radish."

"Right," Raphael nodded. "Ye really expect me ta believe that you juz _happened_ ta find a flower named afta' me, only seconds afta' I called ya a pansy?"

"No, I'm serious," Donatello insisted, holding up the book. "It's in the book and everything."

"Sure it is," Raph humored him. "Juz like that little purple thing over there," he said, pointing to a group of violet colored flowers nearby. "The, uh... Donatellic fruitangelic."

"Raph, those are Forget-me-nots, and you know it," Don said, not very amused by the freshly invented Latin name.

"No, I'm sure that's the name," Raph insisted. "You see, how ya can recognize it by the girly color? Kinda reminds me of someone I know..." he trailed off, pretending to think about it. "Oh, that's right!" he lit up with a smile. "Yer bandanna. I knew I'd seen it someplace. Shit," he continued, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned back to look at the flowers. "The resemblance is juz unca--"

He was quickly interrupted as Donatello shoved up the tiny flora lexicon in his face, "Look."

Reading the cursive text underneath the picture of the same white flower that his brother held in his hand, Raphael's eyes widened in surprise. It was _in fact_ named Raphanus raphanistrum.

"Whattahell?" he quickly moved to hold the logs with just one hand and snatched the book from Donnie, looking closer as if the letters would jumble themselves and create an entirely different name. "You've gotta be kiddin' me. There's actually a flower named Raphanus raphanistrum?"

Don just nodded in confirmation.

"Raph-_anus_?"

Donatello nodded.

"_Anus_?" When only getting a third nod in response, Raph shoved the book into Donnie's plastron and returned to clutch the logs with both his hands. "I'm headin' back," he declared, leaving a rather amused Donatello behind to save the tiny, leafy version of his red-masked brother in his book with the rest of his collection.

* * *

Closing in on the pleasant part of the forest Leo had chosen for tonight's camp, Raph got a puzzled expression on his face, stopping instantly to watch the strange scene that played out in front of him. He thought he'd heard some noise, but he would have never expected for it to be... 

"Why'd you stop?" Donatello came up beside him, shutting up instantly once discovering what Raph was looking at.

A few feet up ahead, right next to one and a half tent, Michelangelo sat on the ground, looking as though he would have had a better time at a Powerpuff convention than he did watching his eldest brother making a complete and total fool out of himself.

With a tent peg gripped in his hand, to make up for the loss of a microphone, and a set of headphones strapped onto his skull, Leonardo proudly strutted about the camp, continuously swaying his hips when practically shouting the lyrics to Harpo's 'Movie star.'

"Oh my god..." Donnie gaped. "Is that... Is that really who I think it is?" he asked, turning to look at Raph for answers, as if to be sure he hadn't sniffed one too many flowers and therefore was the victim of a little thing called delusional visions.

Not knowing what else to say, Raphael simply nodded, trying to put his world back together while absentmindedly wondering if this also meant that Hell was well on its way to freeze over. "I think so," he said.

Too caught up in himself, Leo was way too busy to notice the arrival of the latest two audience members, as was Mikey, who was still looking as if he could use an emergency dose of good old fun injected into his bored-to-death system ASAP.

Once the dancing ended with the song, Leo proudly turned to look at his youngest brother, still holding his substitute mic in a death grip. "So, what song was it?" he wondered, panting slightly from the athletic dance moves he'd presented.

Mike only stared at him irritation, not having been prepared for the usually very calm and collected leader taking this game as far as he had. "You know you're only supposed to _hum_, right?"

"Oh, c'mon," Leo playfully waved him off with his hand. "You're just jealous you don't know all the lyrics."

"Suuure..." Mike said with a voice that lacked a whole lot of enthusiasm. "That must be it."

Startled by the sudden sound of clapping, Leo whipped around to discover his other two brothers a few feet behind him, Donatello gleefully applauding the one-man show they'd just caught for free, and Raph would have probably joined in as well, was it not for the stock of logs he carried in his embrace. Of course, that didn't stop him from making any vocal comments on the a cappella concert.

"Leo, Leo, Leo..." he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "I can't even leave ya alone fer more than what, an hour?" he asked, turning to Don, who quickly corrected him,

"Fifty minutes."

"Right," Raph said. "Fifty minutes, and you've already stripped yerself clean of any dignity ye might've had left in ya."

"For your information," Leo said, having quickly returned to his trademark overly sober self the instant he realized he'd been watched, "we were playing a game, and just FYI, I was winning."

"Yeah?" Raph inquired with a smirk. "A game you say? Gee, now, correct me if I'm wrong, Donnie," he said, giving Don a quick glance before turning back to the resident Wayne Newton, "but aren't games s'posed ta be fun?"

"Your point being?" Leo asked, crossing his arms in a defensive manner.

"Well, I could be wrong, but Mike doesn't really look like he's havin' the time of his life," Raph said, pointing to the orange-masked turtle that still sat on the ground.

"Well, what can I say?" Mikey began. "After six or seven episodes of what you just saw, the fun kinda gets lost on the way."

"Replaced with feelings of disgust and humility?" Don wondered, looking at Michelangelo.

"Right," Mikey confirmed. "Cuz you're embarrassed about the fact that you're related."

"Very," Donatello nodded in agreement, having never felt so in touch with Michelangelo before.

"Alright," Leo said, ripping the headphones off him and handing the tiny mp3 player back to Michelangelo. "You caught me singing, n--"

"And dancin'," Raphael was quick to insert.

"Fine," Leonardo sighed. "_And _dancing. Now can we all please just laugh it off so we can go back to our normal lives?" Looking in between his siblings, as if challenging them to laugh, Leo was glad to find none of them doing any such thing. "Good," he said. "Now grab your fishing rod, Raph, 'cause it's our job to get dinner while they work on the campfire."

"F-f-fire…?" Donatello stuttered, his face visibly losing all its color.

"Yes, Don," the eldest nodded, "fire. And unless you accidentally burn the entire forest down, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Don's eyes instantly widened in terror.

"Great job there, Leo," Mike said, rising to his feet to give the eldest a swift pat on the shoulder. "I'm no shrink, but I seriously doubt the best way to calm someone's fears is to paint up the worst case scenario."

Leonardo just frowned in response.

* * *

Sitting in his tent, where he'd been sent off to after having three panic attacks in a row during the very slow and non-dangerous process of trying to force some life into the poor excuse of a fire, Donatello calmly looked through his flora lexicon, studying each page to the degree where he would remember the flower, should he come across any of them. At first, the thought of leaving Mikey alone with a set up campfire and a tiny box of very possibly lethal matches hadn't sounded too good to him, but after looking at all the beautiful shapes and colors of the flowers in his book, calm had slowly began to wash over him like aspirin on a head ache. 

In fact, he'd almost completely forgotten about the fire until Mike called for him from outside.

"Donnie? Donnie, it's done now, so you can come out!"

Closing up his book, Don took a deep breath and crawled down to the foot of the tent to put the book in his backpack. Then, after carefully unzipping the tent, he worriedly peeked his head outside to make sure the entire forest was still there, before rising to his feet and stepping out of his nylon-made sanctuary.

Mikey was sitting by the occasionally sparkling fire that, to his great relief, looked quite safe, and almost even – dared he say it – inviting. The sun was slowly beginning to set, painting the sky in a bright variety of pink and purple colors; it was quite beautiful. Stepping up to the campfire, he quickly noticed Mikey had a small book in his lap that he read, and – against everything logic and natural – even seemed quite into. He didn't even look up as he took a seat across from him, his eyes curiously studying him through the blurry hot air that emerged from the fire.

"What'cha reading?" Donnie finally asked, folding his hands together in his lap.

"Hmm?" Mike looked up, as though he wasn't sure if he'd been addressed or not.

"The book," Don explained, pointing to it with an open hand. "It's not 'World's Funniest Blonde Jokes. Volume 2', is it?"

"Oh, this?" Mikey asked, holding up the pitch-black cover of the book, where no title or any text for that matter could be found. "Oh, just a little something from Leo's bag," he explained, quickly returning to read the book.

"You went through Leo's stuff?" Don questioned in obvious disapproval.

"Why?" Michelangelo looked up. "Does that shock you?"

Taking a moment to think about it, Donnie casually shook his head. "So," he then said, needing something to talk about to take his mind off the possible catastrophe the sweet, little, innocent looking campfire might cause. "What's it about?"

Still reading the open page in the book, Mike answered with a mumbled response, "Oh, a little of this, little of that. Mostly juz boring stuff concerning Leo's life."

"Wait-- _What_?" Donatello questioned with a puzzled expression.

"Well, you know," Mikey looked up at him to properly explain. "His likes and dislikes, lots of boring ninjutsu stuff and a few tribute pages to Master Splinter. Basically just a bunch of quick resumes of his days."

"Mikey!" Donnie scolded. "I can't believe you actually stole Leo's journal!"

"His journal?" Mike repeated with a snort. "Dude, I don't know what he told you, but this is a diary," he said, waving with the open book in his hand. "And despite my low expectations, I gotta admit it's got some really juicy parts in it. Like this one," he said, turning back a few pages to search for a particular incident he'd found extra funny.

"I'm not listening to _that_," Don quickly objected. "If you wanna be a disrespectful ass and go behind our brother's back, be my guest. But I'm not going to be any part of it," he decided, crossing his arms in a gesture to prove exactly just how made up his mind was.

"Sometimes, I really don't get Donnie," Mike dramatically began to read off the open page of the diary. "If he wanted to completely ruin my electric toothbrush by picking it apart into little useless bits and pieces, he could've just asked."

"What the...?" Don breathed in shock. "He wrote that?"

"Uh-huh," Michelangelo nodded in a way that lacked complete sympathy for his brother. "And there's more later on."

"_What!_" Donnie exclaimed in shock,

"Yeah," Mike said, already turning over the pages of the book in search of that very part. "He goes on and on about how even though he respects you not being into violence and all that, you should take Master Splinter's lessons more seriously, and tha--"

"Gimme that!" Don angrily interrupted him, quickly rushing over to his little brother to snatch the leader's diary right out of his hands.

* * *

Finally reaching the camp, Raph had mastered the art of ignoring his brother. After ten minutes of endless blabbering and kissing his own ass, Leo was starting to grow a tad annoying. Sure, he was quite the fisherman. Most of what they'd caught for dinner was all thanks to Leo, but he really took things too far when dramatically handing out air headed advice on how to best get lucky with the rod. 

"...and _that's_ how you know it's time to reel it in," the leader finished, completely unaware of Raph's refined ability to tune him out.

Raphael perked up once noticing his two brothers by the apparently blown out campfire. Walking up to them, he lazily dropped his rod to the ground, ignoring Leonardo's yelped exclaim from behind him.

"What's up with the fire?" Raph wondered. "I thought you were s'posed ta lit it."

"I did," Mikey explained, his eyes doing a three-sixty in their sockets. "But I had to put it out when Donnie here started to panic because of a stick catching fire," he said, pointing to said piece of burnt stick lying in the grass.

"I wasn't panicking!" Donatello instantly objected.

"Oh, c'mon," Mikey protested. "You were hyperventilating!"

"Wait?" Raphael said. "Why d'ya light a stick on fire?"

"I was bored," Michelangelo casually explained, causing his red-masked brother to nod understandingly.

"Alright!" Leonardo joyfully interrupted his siblings. "Make room for big bro, 'cause I've got enough fish to last us two dinners!" he announced, crashing the party with his heavy plastic bag of fishy corpses.

"My, he's in a good mood," Don commented, leaning over to Raph who stood next to him.

"Yeah," Raphael nodded. "Apparently, he broke his personal record."

Donnie nodded in understanding.

Staring at the put out campfire, Raph suddenly remembered something. Lighting up Christmas miracle, he secretly hurried off to his and Mikey's tent, a grin even the Grinch himself would envy decorating his malicious features.

A few minutes later, after gutting and preparing the fish, Leonardo proudly approached the campfire with a box of matches in one hand, and Raph's unidentified lighter fluid in the other. Even though he was an irresponsible pyromania, he had to admit that the nearly lethal liquid was very efficient.

Getting down on his knees before the organized, already burnt logs, Leo happily hummed the tune to Bloodhound Gang's 'The Roof is on Fire' while unscrewing the cork to carefully squirt some miracle fluid over the logs, when suddenly discovering something that didn't belong there.

"What on earth...? Mikey?" he asked, reaching inside the mass of logs to grab the object in question. "Mind telling me how your oven mitt ended up in the campfire?"

"_Mr. Gaffy_!" Mike fearfully shrieked, instantly grabbing the sooty giraffe from his brother. "Oh my poor baby, what happened to you?" he murmured, affectionately petting the knitted kitchen appliance. "Who would do such a thing?" he asked, brushing the mitten clean of splinters and soot.

Raphael unaffectedly shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the icy look he got from his blue-clad sibling.

* * *

"Don? Is something the matter?" Leonardo finally asked towards the end of dinner. His purple masked brother had been unusually quiet. Sometimes he even got the feeling he was giving him the cold shoulder. 

"Nothing," Donatello quickly responded. "I have no idea why you would think that," he said, quickly returning to ignoring his eldest brother.

Leo sighed inwardly, deciding he would have to talk to his brother once they went to bed. He wouldn't be able to ignore him then, sharing the same tent and all.

"You know," Mike spoke up with a mischievous grin. "I think I might know what's bothering him."

All three brothers turned to look at the youngest.

"Oh?" Leo inquired.

"Yeah," Michelangelo nodded. "I could probably just tell you upfront, but I'd rather drop you some clues instead."

"Clues?" Leo repeated as he arched an eye ridge, a sinking feeling washing over him. He really didn't want to be dragged down other one of Mikey's games, especially not after the last one earlier today. He wasn't sure he could trust himself around his little brother's games anymore.

"Yeah," Mikey nodded. "Let's see," he said, dramatically putting a finger to his jaw as if to pretend to be deep in thought. "How should I put this? Oooh, I know!" he lit up, loudly clearing his throat before transforming his stance into something that looked a tad too stiff and proper for a party animal like himself. "I fear I won't live up to Sensei's expectations. I don't want to fail him. Blah, blah, blah..."

"What the hell is this?" Raphael wondered. "Charades?"

"Not quite," Mike replied, still in character. "But, were you to keep guessing, one might not be wrong."

"...What?" Leo questioned, utterly clueless.

"Okay, fine," Mike surrendered, returning to his old, goofy self again. "How about this?" he suggested, crossing his legs to sit more comfortable. Closing his hand as if he was holding a pencil, he gradually moved his hand over the air, pretending to be writing. "Dear diary," he began. "When I grow up, I want to be_ just _like my Sensei. He's such a great person. Yaddah, yaddah. All Hail Master Splinter. Which reminds me," Mikey dramatically looked up. "I don't think I've kissed his ass today."

Leo and Raph watched their little brother in confusion while Donatello did his best to ignore him altogether.

"Okay," Leo said, not looking very amused. "You're obviously trying to make fun of me, but I don't see how that has anything to do with why Donnie's upset?"

"You really need it spelled out for ya?" Mikey asked.

"_What_ spelled out?" Leo demanded. "Mikey, if I did something, why won't you just tell me like a decent, _normal_ person?"

"Fine," Mike decided. "Dear diary. I don't like Donatello. The End."

"Oh my god!" Leo realized. "You two read my journal?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Mike replied, a smile growing on his face, "but we _did _read a diary."

"I can't believe you went behind my back and did that?" Leo exclaimed. "Have you no shame in your bodies?"

"Considering what's written in there, I don't think you should be the one who's upset, Leo-boy," Mike wisely told him.

"That's... neither here nor there," Leo answered. "You practically _stole_ my innermost thoughts!"

"Your innermost thoughts are bad stuff about Donnie," Mike pointed out.

Leo nervously glanced at his purple masked brother, who hadn't said a single thing since all this blew up. "Well, you had no place reading that," the leader quietly insisted.

"And you should've told that to my face," Don spoke up. "My god, Leo. How do you think I felt, hearing that from Mikey, reading it off some random page in your journal?"

"Diary," Michelangelo quickly corrected.

Leonardo shamefully lowered his eyes to the grass they sat on. "You're right," he quietly admitted. "That was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

A little startled his brother had surrender so easily, Donatello awkwardly answered, "Well, then. Apology accepted."

The two of them quickly went back to finish their dinner like nothing had happened.

"Hold your pizzas," Mike began, a shocked expression on his face. "That's it?"

Don and Leo turned to look at him in confusion.

"No fight?" Mikey wondered. "No 'you backstabbing bastard'? Not even a raised voice?" he pitifully finished.

Leo only shrugged in response.

"And what about you, Donnie?" Mikey asked, turning to look at his purple-clad brother that sat across the campfire. "What happened to giving Leo what he deserved? I thought we agreed on the cold shoulder?"

"I don't know, Mikey," Donnie said, shaking his head at his little brother. "I mean, he apologized, so..." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

"That's _it_? You're just gonna kiss and make up?" Mike exclaimed in disappointment.

Exchanging simple looks with each other, Leonardo and Donatello nodded.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to go with Mikey on this one," Raph suddenly spoke up. "I mean, ye did some pretty low stuff, so yer gonna hafta give us _somethin_'."

"Like what?" Leo wondered.

"I dunno," Raph said. "A fist fight, some bad language. Anything!"

"Yeah," Mikey agreed. "You've gotta give us _some_thing to latch on to. I mean, you're supposed to be the drama queen, Leo. Frankly, I'm a lil' bit disappointed at you."

Leonardo and Donnie wearily exchanged looks with each other.

"Well," Don suggested. "How about we just settle it with a staring game?"

"Alright!" Mikey exclaimed in happiness, a fist pumped in the air for a more powerful effect.

Leonardo sadly shook his head at his youngest brother. "You really need to start finding joy in bigger things, Mikey."

* * *

"How about that staring game, huh?" Michelangelo questioned, turning to glance at his red-masked brother, his eyes gradually making out his bulgy shape in the darkness of the small tent. 

"Neah," Raph shrugged in the black. "I've seen better."

"Well, yeah," Mikey agreed, turning back to stare at the ceiling. "I mean, it was no August –99, that's for sure. Or even March last year," he later added as an afterthought. "But it was one helluva battle. How long was it on, anyway?" he asked, turning back to glance at his brother.

"Ten minutes," Raphael answered, trying to move into a less uncomfortable position. These sticks and pinecones did nothing for his delicate, city-born skin.

"Ten minutes?" Mike repeated in astonishment. "That long? Wow," he commented, spending a few moments in thinking about what had just taken place. "Hey," he suddenly perked up, turning back to looking at Raph, who now had his shell turned to him. "Remember last Thanksgiving? Man, you and Leo were at it for like... what? Thirty minutes?"

"Forty," Raph corrected him with a mumble.

"_Forty_ minutes?" Mike exclaimed. "Holy cow. I guess that makes you the staring champ, huh?"

"Naturally," Raph lazily responded.

The two of them finally drifted off in silence, and Raph gradually felt his eyelids growing heavier, until they ultimately closed in defeat.

"Hey, Raph?"

"No."

"No, but I was just thinki--"

"No."

"But it's--"

"Good night, Mikey."

Michelangelo surrendered with a heavy sigh. "Night."

Suddenly, Raph opened his eyes in startled irritation. There were soft, constant vibrations in the ground, and he heard something of a strange beat somewhere in the distance. It almost sounded like...

"Hey, Raph," Mike spoke up in the darkness. "You hear that?" he asked, sitting up in bewilderment.

"The hell is that?" Raph demanded, following his little brother's example and shooting up from his sleeping bag.

"I don't know," Mike said, trying to expand his hearing by pressing his head to the side of the tent. "It almost sounds like... Is that _country_ music?" he wondered, turning back to his brother for confirmation. And even in the darkness of their little tent, he could still make out his red-masked sibling's features growing darker with the unexpected realization.

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you set camp next to a _barn dance_," Donatello's muffled voice came from underneath the pillow he held over his head. 

"Not on purpose!" Leo bravely defended himself. In his defense, it was a very old map, and even if it wasn't, he didn't think they had any signs for western parties.

"Does it matter?" Don asked, surfacing from his pillow at the lack of air. "Because of you, we have to spend the night listening to _this_!" he said, pointing his hand in the direction of the noise. "I mean, you can't even hear the song. Just some off beat drum and a bunch of drunk people howling."

"I said I was sorry," Leo grimaced. "And it's not so bad if you don't think about it."

"How am I supposed to _not_ think about it?" Donatello questioned. "The minute I put my head to that pillow, I literally _feel_ the vibrations in the ground."

"Well, you know," Leo began, deciding to try a different approach. "This is actually an excellent opportunity to work on your meditation. Master Splinter _did _say that we're supposed to learn how to block out everything about our environment. That would include this."

"Don't even go there," Donnie warned, angrily laying back down and turning his front away from his brother.

Leo gently lay back down, carefully pulling his unzipped sleeping bag over him. "Good night...?" he sweetly offered.

"Stuff it," came Donatello's angry reply, causing Leo's ears to cringe in response. He had never seen his brother so mad before, so... _rude_. It seemed late night country music had the gift of bringing out the worst in even the nicest of people. He really didn't want to think about poor Mikey who had to share a tent with Raph, a guy whose infamous temper had been the cause of many, _many_ sleepless nights.


	10. Are you blackmailing me?

**A/N:** _Forgive me for the ridicilous delay. We're getting closer to the end, though, so I'll be able to finish this story for sure. Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Responses will be posted at my author forum at Stealthy Stories. For those of you who haven't already been there, there's a link you can use on my profile. I hope you still find this funny. Don't forget to review. Enjoy!_

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* * *

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**Chapter 10 - "Are you _blackmailing_ me?"**

Having enjoyed yet another fabulous breakfast of dry, butterless bread, the four hikers were busy packing up their things. It was one thing to set up tents, but to then successfully squeeze them down the backpacks… That was the _real_ challenge! Mikey in particular seemed to have trouble with this, Raph having finally decided it was his turn to carry the tent, even despite the fact that both his feet were still sore from the too-tight-boots incident. Donatello, meanwhile, was enjoying his first day without the trademark plastic bag tied around his foot. His wound had healed up quite nicely, due to his careful morning, night and every hour in-between cleaning of it.

As they waited for Mike to shove the rolled up tent bag down his backpack, using brutal force and basically no patience whatsoever, Don took the time to admire the nature. The early morning birds, the beautiful flowers, the majestic trees around them and the... approaching storm?

"You guys..." he hesitantly said, shading his eyes with his right hand. "Doesn't that look like rain to you?"

Everyone but Michelangelo turned around to look in his direction, detecting the gloomy group of clouds that seemed to lie in wait in the horizon, most likely carrying bad news.

"Sure does," Leonardo agreed, squinting his eyes at the bright sun. "Good thing April found us those rain coats."

Donatello snickered knowingly, glancing at Raph in amusement.

"What?" Leo wondered, looking between his two siblings, an eye ridge raised in suspicion.

"Well, if my memory serves me right," Donnie began with half a smirk, "Raph refused to pack his coat."

"What?" Leo's eyes widened at the information. He quickly turned to Raphael for confirmation, whose glare evidently challenged him to say anything about it. "Oh, c'mon Raph!" Leo exclaimed in exasperation. "Why would you do that? For _what_ good reason?"

Raphael only crossed his arms in stubbornness. "I ain't dressin' up like a freakin' rubber duck. Simple as that."

Glancing at Michelangelo, who had finally managed to close up his backpack, Leonardo tiredly sighed in defeat, knowing it was useless to argue about it now - miles and miles away from the house. So instead he grabbed the straps of his backpack and set off to begin this day's destination, mumbling to his red-masked brother as he passed him by, "You'll have no one but yourself to blame once that storm sweeps in."

Walking behind the leader, Raphael only shook his head in disagreement. "Please, Leo. Those clouds are about as harmless as Mike's talkin' sock."

"Giraffe!" a rather annoyed Mikey corrected him from behind, trying to strap on his today even heavier backpack.

Raph merely chuckled deeply to himself in amusement. "Storm..." he said in a mocking voice. "Why you always gotta exaggerate so bad, Leo?"

* * *

It was getting closer to noon, and Raphael tiredly avoided the roots that covered the path his eldest brother had picked out for them, the aftereffects of last night's barn dance finally starting to make itself known to him. He didn't get much sleep – for obvious reasons – and his temper suffered the worst because of it. And Michelangelo's constant nagging about how he thought he felt a drop of rain on his beak didn't exactly put him in a better mood. 

"Did you guys feel that?" Mike spoke up behind them where he walked last in line. "That _had_ to be rain."

"Sure it was," Leonardo mumbled where he walked up front. "Just like all the other drops of rain only _you_ felt." Donatello chuckled briefly at his brother's dry answer.

"I'm telling you, this time I really felt it!" Mikey insisted. "It was cold a-and wet and instant and…"

"Maybe it was bird droppings," Don lazily offered.

"Oh, ha ha," Mike frowned. "Very funny, Donnie. I think I would know the difference between a drop of water and some bird dumping his overload on me."

"Whatever," Raphael irritatingly cut in. "Juz shut up and walk, will ya? I think we'd notice if it started rainin'." Satisfied his comment had succeeded in shutting his little brother up, Raph quietly made his way through the woods, trying not to step in anything sharp or smelly.

"Okay, now I _definitely _felt something!" Mikey then chirped up behind them.

"Seriously, Mike," Don began in protest.

"No, I really mean it this time," Michelangelo interrupted him. "I'm telling you, it's gonna pour down any minute."

"Right..." Leonardo mumbled, only shaking his head to himself. In all honesty, he really wished it would just start raining already, at least then they wouldn't have to listen to Mike's false alarms every other second. Then, as if his not-so-thought-through prayers had been answered, he distinctly felt a small drop of rain landing at the very top of his bald skull.

"There it was again!" Mike hollered in his usual need for attention kind of way. "I felt another one, and it was right _here_," he said, pointing to just below his right eye.

"Mikey, please..." Don sadly shook his head as he walked.

"No," Leo interrupted his brother by stopping entirely. "I think he might be right."

"What?" Don and Raph both turned to look at the eldest turtle in surprise.

"I'm serious," Leo continued. "I felt a drop of a rain a second ago. I think it's actually coming down."

"See?" Mikey instantly lit up at the leader's confirmation of his theory. "I told you I felt it!"

"Whatever," Raph muttered as he pushed his way past Donatello to keep walking. "It's prolly just a few drops ta keep these trees from dryin' up completely."

"Well, I don't know about that, Raph," Leo said as he picked up the pace again. "I think we should make a move on if we wanna cross the field before this gets any worse. At least then we'd be somewhat protected by the trees."

"I second that plan," Donnie nodded and followed his two brothers, with an overenthusiastic Michelangelo falling behind as he dug inside his backpack for the easily detected yellow raincoat he'd packed.

* * *

If rain was the angels up in Heaven crying, then they must have watched the world's saddest movie judging by the way the water had been coming down the past half-hour; and Raphael, the rebel who refused to pack a raincoat, suffered the worst. He was soaked, he was cold, he was pissed, he was tired of having the words 'I told you so' tossed in his dripping face and – most of all – he was only inches away from stealing and smashing the highly disliked mp3 player Michelangelo had brought with him against a random nearby tree. He was getting quite sick of his little brother's singing, especially when all the songs had the theme of water in them. 

At the moment he was wailing the chorus to 'I'm Singing in the Rain' – for the fourth time in a row.

Another thing that was really starting to grind Raph's gears was the splashing sound coming from inside Mikey's water filled plastic bags each time he took a step, as if every little bad quality about his little brother had teamed up just to make him suffer even more in this almost overdramatic rainstorm. Speaking of things that bothered him, the fact that Leonardo the Wise had been right about the powerful rainstorm was what annoyed him the most, because he knew he'd confront him at one point or another during the day, demanding the ever so classic confession of 'I was wrong. You were right.'

It was not something he was looking forward to. In fact, if he had to take a pick between admitting to the Flawless Leader that he'd been wrong or taking the part of back up vocals to Mike's now fifth performance of 'I'm Singing in the Rain', he would gladly clear his throat and burst into downright awkwardly out of tune song.

Donatello, meanwhile, was worried sick for his precious collection of flowers that were stored in his book. Because what if his backpack leaked? What if all his wonderful findings – including the Raphanus raphanistrum – had been drenched to the point where they couldn't be saved, or even recognized? It would truly be the world's greatest tragedy known to mutant turtles. However, it wasn't terrible enough to keep a smile from taking control of his features as Raphael sneezed violently behind him. He wasn't a sadistic person, but what could he say?

The stubborn idiot had it coming.

Taking a break from his so-called singing, Mikey happily turned around to look at his red masked turtle. "Bless you," he said, only to earn a deadly stare in return.

"Drop dead," said Raph, trying to recover from his sneeze when he suddenly felt another one approaching.

"I was only trying to be nice, you know," Mike insisted, turning back to look at his other two brothers as they walked, the red masked turtle trailing further and further behind because of his sudden sneeze attacks. "Plus, we _did_ tell him to pack a coat," he pointed out for the umpteenth time that day.

"I AIN'T DRESSIN' UP LIKE NO RU--"

"Rubber duck, we know," Leo calmly finished, helplessly shaking his head at his brother's idiotic principles.

"So, you'd actually rather be a sick ninja turtle than a healthy rubber duck?" Donatello concluded in disbelief.

"He-- _HAGH-TCHOO!_ Hell yeah!" Raph answered, red burst eyes looking up to meet his brother, feeling how his pulsating beak grew to twice its normal size, throbbing excruciatingly.

Leonardo had to admit that he felt bad for his brother, who was obviously getting sicker by the second, but not bad enough not to collect what rarely – but rightfully – belonged to him. He'd been biting his tongue ever since it first began pouring, but now when his poor sibling even started sneezing because of how hard it was coming down, he simply couldn't hold his smugness inside anymore.

"I hate to be the one to rub it in at a moment like this, Raph," he began, earning everyone's attention as they walked, "but weren't you the one who thought those clouds were nothing to worry about?"

Raph's slightly swollen stare darkened in anger.

"Weren't you the one who said, and I'm quoting here: 'Those clouds are about as harmless as Mike's talking sock'? That _was_ you, right?" the eldest inquired.

Raphael only muttered an incoherent insult in return.

"And, correct me if I'm wrong," Leonardo cheekily continued, "weren't _you_ the one accusing me of always exaggerating when I foretold of this unfortunate rainstorm?"

"Whatever," Raph muttered, trying to look as though he wasn't bothered by his brother bringing this up.

"I think you were," Leo quickly answered his own question, sharing a smile with Donatello before moving on the point. "Would that mean that I was right, and... and you were… _wrong_?"

"Hmphmmh," Raphael mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" Leo wondered, stopping to look at his furious brother.

"I ain't sayi-- Haa… HAAGH… _HAGH-TCHOO_! I ain't sayin' it!" Raph finally managed to reply.

"Oh, c'mon," Michelangelo begged. "Just this once? Just to let us know what is sounds like."

"Ova' my rotting corpse," Raph firmly told them, hoping to put this issue to rest for good. "No, you know what? Not even then. Not even when pigs fly, hell freezes ova', an' Shredder grows a conscience the size of Mikey's appetite– all on the same day," he said, causing all three of his brothers to frown in visible disappointment. "Maybe," he then added, earning three pairs of hopeful stares, "_maybe_ the day Mike is voted our next President, the people of the world bow down ta his knowledge, and we all get ta move into the White House togetha'. _Maybe_ then."

* * *

It had been a long day's walk, especially considering the circumstances. One brother had earned himself a cold in the rain, another was deeply depressed that his flower collection had been ruined by the rain, a third brother's throat was sore from singing too much, and the final brother was dead tired from having listened to said brother's off-key singing, in fact, they all were. 

Sitting gathered around the yet to be lit campfire they impatiently waited for it to stop raining, or at least clear up enough for them to cook the fish that were left since Leo's fishing record the night before. It wasn't raining very hard anymore; still it was enough to put out the would-be fire. There was an awkward silence in the moist air around them, one coat-less brother desperately trying to stay warm by keeping his wet, shaking arms folded around his upper body, a deadly look in his eyes daring any of his brothers to yet again bring up the fact that he should've just packed the stupid coat.

In-between Raphael's sneezing, Mikey's growling stomach rose above the tapping sound of light rain, reminding everyone that dinner had yet to be cooked and eaten.

"You think we should try again?" a starving Michelangelo carefully inserted.

Casting a hopeful look upwards, Leonardo squinted his eyes at the still fierce sun. "I dunno, Mikey. What if the fire'll just be put out again? And even if _does_ stop raining, who's to say it won't start back up as soon as we've got dinner in the making?"

Pulling his plastic yellow hood further over his head, his eyes nearly disappearing underneath it, Donnie wondered, "Well, don't we have anymore of those hotdogs left? We could eat those."

"Not unless any of you guys packed more than the one package we had yesterday," Leo replied, everyone instantly turning to Mike for answers, who was known for smuggling food.

"Don't lookit me, dudes," Mike said. "I only brought snacks and that kind of thing. Not actually real _food_."

"Figures," a cold Raphael muttered, his teeth on the point of chattering.

Disappointment ruled the camp, when Mikey suddenly lit up with a kind of happiness only he could display in a situation like this. "Hey, _I_ know, guys!"

Three pairs of more or less interested eyes turned his way.

"You know how the Native Americans would dance to... well, summon rain?"

"I don't think we have that problem, Mikey," Don mumbled, pointing skywards with his eyes.

"Well, yeah," Mike briefly agreed. "But I was thinking. If they could do it to _produce_ rain, maybe we could do something similar to stop the rain. Get it?"

Three blank stares met his proposition, not knowing whether they should feel surprised or not. After all, the aforementioned idea had come from Mikey's mouth.

"C'mon, it's worth a shot!" Mike stubbornly tried to cheer them up.

"And let's say this actually worked in theory," Donatello tiredly began, "how do you suggest we do this dance? We don't know the steps, and even if we did we'd just end up summoning more rain."

Realizing this, Mikey's spirit quickly sank. "Oh. I didn't think of that."

"Course not," Raph muttered in annoyance.

And that was all it took for the four of them to lean back into the heavy silence that had been surrounding them before Mikey's brilliant plan was revealed. However, they were surprised to witness that it didn't last very long.

"What on earth are you doing?" Leo asked as he watched the youngest turtle dance around them, flailing and waving, chanting words no other person had even attempted to speak before.

"Improvising," Mike said, picking up a random stick and using it like a magic wand as he strutted about the camp, always going in circles around his siblings.

"Native American's don't sound like that," Donnie pointed out, looking mildly amused, in contrast to his other two brothers who just looked like they were only moments from tying the orange-banded turtle to a tree and leaving him.

"When they chant backwards, they do," Mike insisted, happily moving on with his anti-rain dance.

"Oh for Heaven's sakes!" Leo outburst. "This is ridiculous. There is _no_ such thing as a rain dance, _especially_ not one performed backwar--" Startled by the lightning that tore across the sky, Leonardo never finished his sentence. Even Mikey quit dancing, and they all looked upwards, waiting for the familiar sound of thunder to let them know how close nature had struck. Indeed a growling thunder followed shortly thereafter, the loud booming sound reaching deep down their cores. The, miraculously, all rain ceased.

"That was... odd," Donatello was the first to speak up, not really sure what to make of what had just happened.

"Coincidence," Leo shrugged, quickly reaching inside the bag for the matches and lighter fluid.

"Whatever, dude," Mike said, taking off his raincoat. "I danced, it stopped – and you all saw it. Bow down to my power."

"Oh well," Don said, rising to his feet and stripping down of his coat. "I'm just glad we get to eat." He then casually hung the dripping piece of plastic clothing over a nearby branch, before walking up to his and Leo's tent, positioned a few feet behind the youngest turtle. He unzipped the entrance and reached inside to search his backpack for his water bottle. When standing there, bent over and searching his bag, Mike's shrill voice soon pierced his focus.

"Eww! What's _that_?"

"What's what?" a mildly annoyed Raph wondered.

"_That_," Mike said, and then Don clearly felt someone pointing at his left ass cheek.

"Mikey, would you please refrain from grabbing my ass," Don calmly said, irritation dancing all over his words.

"Oh-my-god!" Mike outburst. "Oh, that is _so_ gross!" Leo and Raph quickly got up to see what all the fuss was about, and – without Don's knowledge – they were all studying his rear. Only when Leo spoke up did he realize that he too was standing right behind him.

"Um... Don? Felt any irritation around the... bottom area lately?"

"What?" Donatello froze inside the tent. "What are you talking about? And would you please stop staring at my ass!"

"There's a tick feeding off of your tush!" Michelangelo blurted out, causing Donnie's blood to run cold.

* * *

Standing by the lake, brushing his teeth and just enjoying that fact that he was alone, Raphael spat once into the water before a mischievous look twisted his features. Quickly looking around himself to see if there were any witnesses, he then slid his hand down his belt and grabbed the object of his kidnapping. 

Mr. Gaffy.

At last would he be rid of it. He'd managed to steal it during all the fuss of Don's tick. A terrified Donatello running about the camp in panic, tears rolling down his cheeks while endlessly repeating the words, "Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!" did wonders for stealing Mikey's attention.

Looking down at the defenseless piece of kitchen equipment in his hands, Raphael tightened his grip and uttered a few final words. "No Mike aroun' ta save ya this time, is there?"

"Who're you talking to?"

Startled, Raph turned around to find Donatello approaching with a toothbrush in his hand. He quickly hid the oven mitt behind his back. "Err... Hey Don. How's the ass?"

"Nice try," Donatello grinned. "What'cha hiding behind your back?"

Cursing inwardly, Raph brought out his hand to reveal his hostage.

"Mr. Gaffy!" Don gasped in shock.

"Oh, c'mon!" Raph whined. "Not you, too. Soon he'll have Master Splinta' calling this thing that."

An uncharacteristically evil sneer spread across Donnie's lips. "Not unless we get rid of it."

"Say what?" Raph lit up, both surprised and pleased.

"I'm just saying," Donatello continued. "There's a lake, one could easily slip and no one would ever have to know."

"Donnie," Raph chuckled in approval. "I had no idea ye could be so evil."

Donatello shrugged his shoulders. "There's just never been a reason."

"So," Raph said, playing with the mitten in his hands. "Who'll do the honors? I mean, I had been lookin' forward ta throwing away this piece a' shit, but since yer so nice about not tellin' on me..."

"Can I?" Donatello lit up, almost touched.

"You wanna?" Raph offered the oven mitt.

Having never felt so close to his red-masked brother before, Don nearly had to hold back tears when he accepted Mr. Gaffy from Raphael's hand. Who'd known their mutual hatred for Mikey's oven mitt would be the thing that brought them closer? This was truly one of those moments Donatello would forever cherish. Exchanging a malicious smile with Raph, Don then raised his arm, prepared to throw Mr. Gaffy into oblivion.

"Hold it!"

"Leo…" Don stated when turning around to meet his sibling, lowering his arm in embarrassment. "Buddy, pal... What are you doing here?"

Leonardo held up his toothbrush, providing a perfectly good answer to the question.

Raphael, meanwhile, leaned closer to Don as he spoke through gritted teeth, "Throw. The sock. Throw it!"

"I can't do it with him watching!" Don exclaimed.

Walking up to his younger brothers and snatching the mitten out of Donnie's hand, Leo shook his head in disapproval. "I can't believe you two. You were actually gonna waste Mr. Gaffy? Mr. _Gaffy_?"

Donatello lowered his eyes in shame.

"I mean, I can't stand the thing, either," Leo continued. "But _behind_ his _back_? Mr. _Gaffy_?"

"A'right already!" Raph interrupted in irritation. "We're guilty. Now stop callin' it Mr. Gaffy," he finished, wincing when saying the mitten's name as if pronouncing it left a sour taste in his mouth.

"You're in no position to give me attitude, Raph," Leo said, sternly crossing his arms. "This isn't the first time you tried to get rid of it."

"What's that supposed ta mean?" Raphael wondered.

"You don't mean to tell me Mr. Gaffy ended up in the campfire by himself the other night," Leo said, causing Raph to grit his teeth in anger at the obvious threat. Donatello curiously followed the conversation that took place between his two brothers.

"Ye can't prove anything," Raph said, strangling the toothpaste in a furious death grip, the bulging tube threatening to explode under the pressure

"Perhaps," acknowledged Leo. "But we'll just leave it up to Mike to decide on who's telling the truth or not," he then said, quickly turning around to head back to the camp.

"Wait!" Raph called after him, not being able to witness the wicked grin that curved the blue-masked turtle's lips. "C'mon, don't tell Mikey. He'd never forgive me if he found out."

Slowly turning around, having swallowed his grin and relaxed his features, Leonardo replied, "Suppose I wouldn't tell him about any of this, don't you think you should scratch my back, too?"

"What the... Are you _blackmailing_ me?" Raph's eyes widened in shock.

"We could easily come to an agreement, and no one would ever have to know what the two of you attempted down here by the like," Leo calmly offered.

"I ain't doin' you no favors," Raph insisted, stubbornly crossing his arms.

"You really want to risk having to watch the look on Mikey's face when I tell him what you two – his _brothers_ – went and did to Mr. Gaffy behind his back?"

Donatello, who was on the verge of biting through his cheek in fright, frantically poked Raph in the side. "Just do whatever he wants. Mike would never forgive us for this!"

Knowing that was probably true, Raph swallowed his pride in one painful bite and turned to meet the leader's eyes. "Fine," he spoke through clenched teeth. "What do ya have in mind?"

Leo's evil smirk finally surfaced, and for the first time in his life did Raphael actually fear his big brother. "Oh, I dunno," Leo said, so obviously lying through his teeth, because the wickedness of his plan was written all over his face, about to grow two red horns on top of his bald head. "I was thinking of something in the ways of you admitting that I was right and you were wrong," he then finally revealed.

"WHAT?" Raph outburst.

"Oh, you know." Leo grinned. "Earlier today, the rain, me being right about it. I'm pretty sure you haven't forgotten."

"You really wanna hear me say it, don'cha?" Raph said, angrily shaking his head in disbelief of the extremes his brother would go to, just to hear him admitting he was wrong.

"I really, truly do," Leo confirmed happily.

"Fine," Raph gave in. He decided it was no big deal. Fine. If him admitting this would give his brother some sick, sadistic pleasure and actually buy him his silence, then why not? It wasn't a big deal or anything. Just words. Plain, simple words. He didn't have to mean them. Only say them. It was an okay deal. He could've probably forced him into doing something that was much, much worse. In fact, this was no trouble at all. Just words.

"Um... Raph?" Donatello humbly cut in, having watched Raphael stand with his mouth open for a good ninety seconds. He'd parted his lips at Leo's proposition, but the words just never came. "Are you gonna admit it, or..."

"I'm gettin' there!" Raph blew up, instantly shutting up his purple masked sibling. "I was... I was wr--"

"I, _Raphael_," Leonardo firmly corrected.

"What? Oh, _hell_ no!" Raph refused.

"Repeat after me," Leonardo smugly insisted. "I, Raphael, was wrong. And you, Leonardo, were right. From the top."

Raph glanced at Donnie, who only motioned with his hands for him to go on. Letting out a deep sigh, Raph then began what he knew was going to be one of the hardest things he'd ever been forced into doing – and he'd actually lasted through an entire weekend of 'Scooby Doo and the Gang' episodes, due to losing a bet to Mike. He couldn't think of anything that was more iterating. "I, Raphael, was..." Trailing off, he caught Leo's joyful eyes urging him to proceed. "…was... was wrong," he angrily finished. "And you, Leonardo, were... weeerrre..."

"Yes?" Leo grinned. "Go on."

Swallowing more pride, Raph gritted his teeth. "Were r... riiigh... right."

Applauding what felt like the happiest moment of his life, Leonardo said, "Thank you. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Stop it!" Raph ordered, thinking the clapping was just taking it too far. He'd already given his soul up for auction; he didn't need his brother to be the one who actually bought it. Only, when Leo stopped applauding, Raph realized he wasn't the only one who'd enjoyed the show.

"Donnie, so help me god, if ye don't shut yer hands up this very moment, I'll punch ya _so_ hard ye won't even rememba' what date the Nobel Prize takes place."

Stopping instantly, Don mumbled a quiet "sorry" under his breath.

"So," Leo then casually said, moving in to take the abused toothpaste from Raph's still clenched grip. "I guess we'll have to congratulate Mikey on getting voted for next President, huh?"


	11. Always check the inside pocket

**A/N: **_Yes. Here I am again, apologizing for my ridicilously late update. Next chapter will probably be the last one. Um... what else? Oh, right! Of course, thanks for all the lovely reviews! Withtout them I'd porbably update like once a year or so. Review responses will as usual be posted at my author forum at Stealthy Stories as soon as I have the time/energy. If you haven't been there before, just click my profile and it'll tell you what Stealthy is, and how to get there. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's not exactly one of my personal favorites, but whaveter. Hope ya like it! Later!_

* * *

**Chapter 11 – "_Always_ check the inside pocket."**

It had been the lesser of two evils. Raphael wanted to sleep alone because of his cold, and he had dared anyone to share a tent with him, warning them about the nonstop, violent sneezing. They'd all known he'd said so just so he could have a tent all to himself, but none of them wanted to wake up the next day, covered in snot just to - prove him wrong. It simply wasn't worth it. So Leonardo had finally agreed to share a tent with Donatello and – oh, how he wished he wouldn't regret it – Michelangelo. So far, he and Don were the only two turtles in the tent, where Mikey were down by the lake, brushing his teeth and singing so loud they could hear him perfectly well from the camp. He'd even talked Raph into coming with him, afraid of venturing out into the night alone.

Raphael, who secretly felt a big guilty over almost offing Mr. Gaffy, couldn't do much but accompany his little brother.

Suddenly realizing Donatello was busy rummaging through something by the foot of the tent, Leo sat up with a puzzled expression and armed himself with his flashlight. He caught his brother in the act of going through the orange-banded turtle's backpack, a frozen expression on his face as though he wouldn't see him if he stayed perfectly still.

"Um... what are you doing?" Leonardo finally asked, pointing the light at Donatello's face, who quickly squinted his eyes in discomfort.

"Well, if you must know," he said, retuning to going through the backpack, "I'm doing us both a favor."

"How, exactly?"

"Earlier today," Donnie explained, "Raph complained about Mike listening to his mp3 when they were sleeping."

"So?" Leo shrugged. "The thing's got earphones. I seriously don't think it could bother us that much."

Don turned around to look at this brother with a grave expression. "He was singing along, Leo."

Gasping in fright, Leonardo quickly threw his sleeping bag aside and scrambled down to the foot of the tent to help his brother in the urgent search of the doom's day device.

* * *

"Oh no!" Michelangelo whined in fright. "Please don't let it be true. Pretty, pretty, _pretty_ please?" 

Leo nearly had to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting out laughing, yet he managed to ask in the most innocent of voices, "What's the matter, Mikey?" He sat up, watching his brother where he sat hunched forward in the darkness, tinkering with the tiny mp3 player in his hands.

"It's the stupid batteries," he explained, hitting the device with his open palm. "They're dead!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Leo said, noticing Donnie doing his best to smother his giggles underneath his sleeping bag. It was truly a victorious moment for both turtles, because they had successfully switched Mikey's batteries for the empty ones in Don's flashlight. "I guess that's what happens when you use it as much as you have," Leonardo then added, lying back down and making himself comfortable.

Mike sighed heavily. "I guess."

"G'night," Leo said, turning over with a content smile decorating his face.

"Night," came Mike's so obviously bummed out reply. And so it was that Leonardo and Donatello both happily lay their heads on their pillows, basking in the peaceful night to come.

* * *

It was as if his pleasant dreams about rocking the stage at a random karaoke bar had been interrupted with a violent slap in the face. The cheering of the crowd was replaced with an off key noise, singing the chorus to 'My Humps'. Leo had no idea how he even _knew_ of that song, but even before he opened his eyes he had a pretty good idea to whom the voice beyond musical repair belonged. 

Peering his eyes open, Leo had to wait a moment or two for them to get used to the darkness before he could make out the shape of his youngest brother, headphones on and head nodding along to the beat only he could hear. As for the singing… oh, _god_, the singing. He was fairly certain that somewhere in the forest a flock of birds that had to get up at dawn were conspiring to attack their new, uninvited neighbors with loads and loads of 'you'll rue the day you infiltrated our forest' droppings.

Turning to the other side for strength, he found Donatello staring straight back at him, his eyes frozen open in what Leo could only assume was sleep-deprived horror.

"What's going on?" Leonardo asked. "I thought you switched his batteries with empty ones?"

"Yeah well, apparently he carried an extra pair in the inside pocket of his backpack. Just in case," came the bitter reply.

"We should've known the check there," Leo scolded himself with a low voice. "_Always_ check the inside pocket."

Donatello shrugged as he pulled his sleeping bag up to his chin. "You live, you learn."

Leo nodded sadly in agreement, still pissed that he hadn't thought of looking for spare batteries. "So, how long has he been… singing?" he asked, not quite sure 'singing' was the proper word to describe what his brother was doing.

"Oh, he's been wailing for a couple of hours now. In fact, this is the third time he's done this song. Unlike you, I couldn't fall asleep the second I put my head on the pillow, so I guess in a way I have my coffee to blame for having to endure this little sleepover torture."

"A couple of hours?" Leo repeated in disbelief. "I can't believe I slept through something so soul piercing like this for _hours_."

"Believe it," Don insisted, boring his red burst eyes into his brother, his intelligent gaze long since replaced with a mad, unwavering stare that truly unnerved Leo a little.

"Well..." Leo hesitantly began. "How much longer do you think he'll keep this up?"

Donnie looked away for a moment, rubbing his right temple while mumbling thoughtfully to himself, "Depends..." He then bore his delirious stare into Leo with another question serving as his answer. "How much sugar did he have today?"

Leonardo felt how the beating of his heart came to an abrupt halt.

* * *

Rolled up in his sleeping bag like a giant caterpillar with an anger management issue, Raphael could still feel his butt cheeks shaking in the cold. Only a night ago it had been so unendurably hot in the tent, he'd even contemplated to unzip the entrance – despite the mosquitoes lurking right outside, craving their blood like the buzzing creatures of the night they were. But now, now he felt as thought he was camping on the North Pole, his breath coming in rugged, harsh pants, all because of this damn cold of his. 

Knowing what he did now, he truly regretted not bringing that stupid, rubber coat. Yellow or not, he'd put on a freaking Smurf costume if it would spare him this cold. Even that fruity Vanity Smurf. Of course, that was something he would never ever under any circumstances admit to his brothers. He did have some pride left, after all. But it really would have been nice to sleep on a pillow that wasn't completely drenched in snot.

"Psst!" came a sudden noise from outside.

At first, Raph merely shrugged it off as another evil, winged bloodsucker, but once the noise was followed by a hushed calling of his name, he furrowed his eye ridges in puzzlement.

"What the hell..." he mumbled to himself.

"Raph? Are you awake?" the voice returned, and this time speaking in a long enough sentence for the currently unmasked turtle to identify it.

"_Leo_?" Raph asked, sitting up in confusion, his snotty skin resisting slightly as it stuck to the fabric of the pillow for a short, agonizing second. "The hell are ya doin' 'ere?"

The zipper was carefully pulled down to reveal not only one, but two brothers; both armed with sleeping bags and pillows.

"Oh, _hell_ no!" Raphael almost instinctively forbid. "You ain't sleeping 'ere. Go back ta whatever rock it was ye climbed out from."

"We can't go back there," Leonardo insisted, his eyes pleading for Raph to take him in, like a stray dog standing on his doorstep.

"You can and ya will. Sleepin' arrangements ain't up fer debate," Raph said, lying back down, pulling his sleeping bag over him and turning away from his siblings in an attempt to ignore their wide, pleading eyes. "And shut the zipper. Yer lettin' the bugs in."

"But Ra-aph..." Donatello murmured in the most pitiful voice he could muster.

"Get lost."

"...he's singing."

If there ever was such a thing as a cuddly, loving teddy bear trapped inside the cold fences of Raph's heart, living on the few rays of light that would occasionally slip by the bitter turtle's attention, it had never made its existence known until now. Because it was as if his pissy attitude was instantly blown away at the revelation of what his poor, poor brothers had been put through, replaced by this never before sighted stuffed animal that warmly welcomed them into the tent, all while moving over to make more room.

Don and Leo had seemed a bit surprised at his sudden change in behavior, and had even been left standing outside the tent for a lingering moment, feeling as though they'd just had an out of body experience, watching the surreal miracle from a third person's perspective. But everything soon returned to normal, for the Raphael they'd always known and loved soon came back to show his true colors,

"Yer juz gonna stand there like a couple a' speech impaired butt holes? Yer lettin' the bugs in!"

Their flabbergasted spirits were quickly sucked back into their bodies and they both quickly made their way inside the tent, whilst they were still welcome.

* * *

_Standing bent over like the paranoid mess he was, Donatello obsessively tried to glance over his shoulder in an attempt to catch even the smallest glimpse of what was going on there. _

_ "What... what are you doing?" _

_ "Hold still..." came the concentrated voice of Raphael. _

_ "I **am** holding still," Don countered. "Now would somebody please tell me what's going on back there?" _

_ "You wanna get rid a' this tick or not?" Raph retorted in obvious irritation. _

_ Donnie quietly bit his lip and turned back to stare ahead of him, trying not to think about the fact that there was a tick stuck to one of his ass cheeks, and that Raphael of all people had volunteered to remove it. If there were anyone he **wouldn't **want doing that job, it would be Raph - because he would surely use questionable methods. Although giving it a second thought, Raph was probably a safer choice than Mikey, whom had been the first volunteer. _

_ A little comforted by this thought, panic soon began to stir inside of him… again. He didn't know if it was because of his freaked out imagination, but he distinctly thought he felt a bit hotter around the sitting area. _

_ **That can't be good... **_

_ "What are you doing now?" Don asked, once again trying to look over his shoulder. _

_ "Hold still, will ya?" Raph angrily exclaimed. "You'll get burnt." _

_ **B-b-b… burnt? **_

_Even though he happened to be a genius, it certainly didn't take one to figure out just what kind of questionable methods his brother was practicing on his tush. _

_ Before he even had a chance to properly freak out, he was forced down on his plastron by his other two brothers, holding him by his shoulders, while Raphael sat on top of his shell, his focus still aimed at his now clenching and unclenching butt cheeks. He tried fighting violence with violence, screaming and kicking, his jaw scraping against the soil covered ground as he tried to worm himself out of his brothers' evil grasps. But resisting was futile, and the sense of heat was only growing stronger on his ass, until he could distinctly feel the deadly flame licking his cold sweaty skin. _

_ "Noooo!" _

_ "Hold him!" Raph yelled, pinning his legs on either side of Don's body to keep him from moving. _

_ The smell of burnt flesh soon infested Don's senses and tears started to make their way down his cheeks. _

_ "Dammit!" Raph grumbled. "It ain't workin'. It's like the damn parasite is fire resistant or someth'n." _

_ "Let me go!" Donnie cried. "Please, just let me goo-ho-hooo..." Yes, that was the sound of his own voice trailing off in embarrassing pathetic hulking noises. _

_ "Hey, wait a sec," Raph then spoke up with a newfound sense of creativity. "I know juz the thing ta get rid a' this bloodsucker. Hand me the lighter fluid, Mike." _

_ **WHAT! **_

_ "Noooooooooooooooooo!" Donatello violently tossed and turned once his younger brother let go of him to go after the fluids of hell, but Leo was soon on top of him with those unnatural reflexes he must have sold his soul to gain, keeping him from escaping. _

_ "Hurry, Mikey!" cried Raph, his legs locked around Don's shell like a professional wrestler. _

_ The sound of footsteps running up to them soon stopped as Mikey bent down next to Donnie, handing over to their red masked brother what could only be one thing. _

_ "Here!" _

_ "A'right," Raph said, sounding as if he was talking with the bottle cork in his mouth. "Hold 'im down." _

_ Something wet was squirted all over Donatello's now positively shaking butt, and the sound of the now empty plastic bottle being tossed aside then followed. _

_ "Hand me my lighter," Raph ordered, locking his legs even tighter around Don's now quivering body. "'Kay. Everyone got a good grip?" _

_ "Yeah." _

_ "Uh-huh." _

_ "Then let's blow this tick into oblivion." _

_ The sense of heat soon returned, and although he knew it was futile to fight them, Don violently kicked and screamed in one last attempt to save himself from his brothers' mad claws. His vision was completely clouded by the boiling water of his tears, and his mouth was filled with the soil and gravel he'd been rubbing his face in. Yet none of it seemed of no matter as the warmth he feared grew unendurable, and his entire existence finally blew up in one big deafening explosion the world's most powerful nuclear bomb would envy. _

**_ KABOOOM! _**

* * *

Sitting upright in a jolted shock, Don could feel his cold sweat running down his neck and spine, needing a few out-of-breath seconds to realize that it had been nothing but a dream. A terrible, horrible nightmare he'd most likely have to seek counseling for, or at least if he'd been human, but a dream nonetheless. 

Yes, they had in fact burned off his tick, but thankfully they hadn't used Raph's mysterious lighter fluid. Although the experience had obviously been traumatic enough with a regular lighter for him to have nightmares about it.

Realizing it was now considerably bright in the tent, or at least bright enough to see,

Donatello figured there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, because even if he did fall asleep, the risk of the nightmare returning with an even more terrifying sequel was just too big to take. He put on his mask and quietly made his way out the tent, only to get a puzzled expression when turning around to shut the zipper behind him.

It seemed his brothers had enjoyed the company of each other a little too much during the night, for Raphael was peacefully snuggled up with a spooning Leonardo embracing him. The first reflex was to toss the nearby leather belt on the sleeping couple, but Don then figured their reaction upon waking up in each other's arms was far better and therefore settled for gently shutting the zipper so he wouldn't wake them.

* * *

Eyes slowly fluttering open, Raph realized to his pleasant surprise that he wasn't shaking anymore. In fact, he felt comfortably warm. The cold he had to endure last night seemed like nothing but a bad memory, having been chased away by the warm rays of the morning sun. He decided to bask in the sensation of not freezing to death for a while longer and stretched out his arms above his head. 

But then something unnerving happened.

When about to turn over on his back, he turned straight into something. Glancing over his right shoulder, he realized it wasn't just something – but some_one_. Leonardo, of all someones, lying right there with him, arms around him like an overprotective parent.

Raphael did the only thing he could think of to get out of this highly uncomfortable situation.

* * *

Trying to salvage what was left of his drenched flowers, Donnie quickly looked up from his book once the first of his two bedmates exited their tent in a familiar fit of rage. 

"N' don't _eva_' lay a finger on me again!"

"Lay a _finger_ on you?" a just a mad Leonardo crawled out behind Raph. "I ought to give you a black eye, that's what I should do!"

Donatello couldn't help but grin, even though he knew he would probably end up getting chased up some tree by Raph for it. "Ah. I see the two lovebirds have woken up to share a romantic breakfast together."

If looks could kill, Raph's eyes would have been the pair of a psychotic murderer so ruthless the media would make a macabre miniseries based on the horrible discovery of Donatello's barely recognizable body. Nevertheless, Leonardo was the one commenting on Don's remark.

"Seriously, Don. _Not_ the time."

And knowing when to count his blessings, Don quickly returned to patching up his flowers, whilst secretly listening in on their argument, of course.

"What?" Raph then angrily turned around to continue his fight with Leonardo. "Molestin' me in my sleep wasn't enough? Now yer gonna hit me, too?"

"Would ya give it a rest, Raph! I didn't "molest" you. For the last time: I WAS _ASLEEP_!"

"Don't think pleadin' unconsciousness will get'cha outta this one!" Raph yelled.

"I might as well have been hugging that fat bastard from Austin Powers, it wouldn't have made a difference - _that's_ how unconscious I was!"

"What fat bastard?" Raph wondered.

"_Fat_ Bastard!" Leo cried.

"Who?"

"FAT BASTARD!" Leonardo repeated. "That's his name. Fat. Bastard."

"The hell are ya talkin' about?" Raph asked, still not being able to put a face to the name. "There's nobody named Fat Bastard in Austin Powers."

"Yes there is," Leo insisted. "That really fat Scottish guy who likes to eat babies."

"What Scottish guy? There's no Scottish guy in Austin Powers."

"Oh my god, yes there is!" Leo cried, feeling as though he could dig out his own eyes in pure frustration. "In the second movie he even sleeps with that blonde agent, and then Austin ends up drinking his crap!"

"_Second_ movie?" Raph repeated in surprise. "You actually _saw_ the second movie? I mean, Mike I can understand, but _you_? I really thought ye had more pride than that."

"Argh!" Leo cried for the lack of a more fitting word. "That's not even the point, Raph. The point is I would have held on to anyone, so would you quit hanging up on details? And second of all, after waking me up the way you did, I think it would only be fair for me to punch you."

"Hey, I only did what came natural," Raph retorted, angrily pointing at his brother in defense.

"Elbowing me in the abdomen came _natural_ to you?" Leo critically asked. "Lying on your back is hardly in favor of showing your elbow into the person lying right next to you, you sadistic freak!"

"Who're ye calling a freak, you sick Austin Powers lovin' bastard!"

And that was about the time Don decided to tune out his brothers, because he knew the argument would pretty much be going in circles from there. Of course, if the words eventually turned into fists, he would step between them, but their pointless arguments rarely went beyond pointless arguments.

* * *

Many hours later of Raph and Leo not speaking to each other, everyone had their backpacks strapped on and quietly walked the invisible trail Leo seemed to have been following throughout the entire trip. Not much was said, and even Mikey's shy requests for peeing breaks were almost instantly voted down. 

To say the least, there was some unresolved tension in the air, and the next person to disturb it most likely did not have a very bright future ahead of them. In this case, this next person was Michelangelo.

It started out with him frenetically checking his belt over and over, barely earning much attention from anyone, but that soon evolved into worried yet carefully muffled sounds, where it became quite clear that everything was not right in Michelangelo Land. Later on, those muffled sounds turned into not so muffled complaints, and then, when he finally couldn't take it anymore, he made a scene.

"Oh no!" he exclaimed, stopping in his tracks and stripping himself of his backpack in what was now a full-blown panic attack. "Please no!"

At first, his brothers decided not to pay him any attention and merely kept on walking, but when the youngest hiker began to empty all of his belongs on the ground, sobs threatening to break out, Don finally turned around to see what the problem was.

"What's going on, Mikey?" he called back to his brother, who was now seated in a giant pile of half eaten candy bars and crumpled bags of snacks.

"I can't find Mr. Gaffy," Michelangelo sniffled, madly rummaging through his stuff. "I thought I had him on me, but I didn't... and he's not in here, either!"

Donatello and Leonardo instinctively turned to glare at Raphael who quickly held up his hands to prove his innocence. He had nothing to do with the disappearance of Mr. Gaffy... or at least not this particular disappearance.

"Well," a concerned Donatello made his way back to his little brother. "Where did you last have him? Just backtrack your thoughts to when you last saw him and I'm sure you'll find him."

Bottom lip nearly shaking, Mikey swallowed once before answering. "I dunno. I think I had him at breakfast. I _know_ I had him in the tent last night. After the two of you split, he was the only company I had left to turn to."

"Okay, so you had him last night," Donatello said. "That probably means he was still there when you woke up this morning."

"Well... yeah," Mike pitifully replied.

"That means you still had him today," Donnie concluded, leaning slightly against a nearby tree. "What about after breakfast? What about when we were packing? You remember seeing him then?"

And that was when the tears Michelangelo had been bordering on finally decided to show; big, loud crocodile tears.

* * *

What everyone had dreamed of for so long had finally come true, yet none of them could find any enjoyment in it. After ten minutes of trying to translate Mikey's gulping sounds into words, it was made official: 

Michelangelo had forgotten Mr. Gaffy back at the camp.

Raph hadn't tossed his knitted body into the fire, Don hadn't thrown him into the lake, and Leo hadn't even had the opportunity to plan a mysterious disappearance for the all around hated kitchen supply – because in the end Mikey himself had been the one to lose him.

Naturally, he'd wanted to go back and look for him, but they had been walking for three hours when they realized the annoying giraffe weren't with them. They couldn't waste six hours just to get him back – especially not when they were so close to home, and Mikey understood that, but it was with heavy, reluctant steps that he walked behind his brothers, his thoughts still with his old friend.

But strangely enough, the six hours they couldn't waste came and went, and still Home was nowhere in sight. Every now and then, a cranky and still sick Raphael would complain about Leo's inability to properly read a map, and it hadn't exactly gone unnoticed by Leo, who finally stopped to have a proper look at the map, twisting and turning it, as if trying to see things from a new perspective.

The evident worry quickly spread to the rest of the group, and Mikey, in a weak attempt at some humorous relief, decided to speak his first words since Mr. Gaffy's tragic disappearance.

"You know, I once read that if you get lost, you're supposed to hug a tree to calm yourself down."

An irritated Leonardo glared at Mike over his shoulder, before his eyes quickly dove back down to stare at the map, still fidgeting and turning it in his hands. "I don't understand," he then mumbled to himself.

"What don't you understand?" Donnie asked, carefully walking up to his brother to have a peak at the map he'd so compulsively been hogging throughout the trip.

"It should be here," Leo said. "We should've been home by now, yet that 'just around the corner' always ends up being more trees!"

"Um... for how long exactly have we been waiting for 'just around the corner'?" Don fearfully asked.

"I'm not sure," Leonardo hesitantly replied. "Not that many minutes."

"_Exactly_ how many minutes, Leo?" an even more worried Don insisted.

"A hundred and twenty minutes?" Leo sheepishly admitted. "Give or take."

"A hundred and twenty minutes?" Don repeated in freaked out disbelief. "You haven't known what you've been doing for two _hours_ and you didn't _tell_ us about it?"

"In my defense, it's really not my fault that this stupid map is out of date," Leo countered.

"Do you have _any_ idea how lost we are, Leo?" Donatello asked. "My god, _two hours_?" he repeated, dramatically cupping his own forehead with his hand.

Raphael didn't know if it was because of the fever, or it was the joy of Mr. Gaffy's disappearance that finally decided to kick in, but he managed to find humor in their very non-humorous situation. Grinning, he turned to the only person he knew would appreciate it and said,

"Looks like ye betta' start huggin' that tree now, Mike." 


	12. Do you want us to die out here?

**A/N: **_Here it is people: the final chapter of Deputy Wildlifers. I am SO sorry for the terrible, terrible delay, but it's hard to combine your muse's schedule with life's schedule. I have loved everyone of your reviews as much as I have loved writing this story. And I don't know if you've heard, but there is actually a third installment to the Deputy serious in the works. It's still in the planning stage, but I can tell you the title of it: '_Deputy Moviemakers_'. Also, I would like to thank anyone and everyone who voted for this story in the 2006 TMNT Fanfiction Competition. It won 3rd place for **Best On-Going Story from Previous Year**. How sweet is that? Also, huge thanks to whomever it was that nominated it. huggles As for my review responses, I will probably put them up this weekend (you know where, I hope) because I have to get a bunch of stuff done these upcoming few days. Now, let's just get to the good stuff. Here is the final chapter. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 12 – "Do you want us to _die_ out here?"**

He only had himself to blame. Having complained at Leonardo's map reading abilities as much as he had, there was no wonder Leo go fed up and dumped the entire map reading responsibility on him. Donnie wasn't pleased, because as things were, they had no idea _where_ on the map they were. And sure, he always enjoyed a challenge, but what with everyone sitting around, impatiently waiting for him to turn Leo's little mistake upside, the challenge was somehow sucked dry of all fun.

Leo, meanwhile, was happily observing Don from his spot on a larger rock, casually leaned back against the trunk of a tree. He was working on his tan, which, he'd proudly noticed earlier this morning before putting on his mask, was coming along quite nicely. They never had the chance to sunbathe when in the city, what with living underground and all – and the moon didn't do much to improve their skin complexion.

Don shook his head in irritation before going back to trying to figure out the map, only to have his concentration be interrupted by Michelangelo.

"Hey, Raph?" he said, walking up to the brother in question who was sitting with his shell against a tree, still suffering from his cold and just looking randomly pissed at the situation. "D'ya think maybe I could borrow your Swiss knife?"

Raphael looked up at his little brother with suspicion furrowing his features. "What for?"

"Oh, nothing," Mikey said innocently. "Just really, really bored, is all."

Studying his orange-masked brother's face as if checking him for any signs of lying, Raph cautiously brought his hand down to his belt, grabbing a firm hold of the knife and handing it out for his brother to take. But, as Mikey reached out and grabbed it, Raph still wouldn't let go.

"No monkey business," he firmly warned.

"Sure," Mike nodded, eager for his brother to let go of the knife. "No climbing trees and throwing feces at passing by hikers. Got it."

Raphael only shook his head at the uselessness of getting a logical answer out of his brother and allowed him to have the knife, causing Mikey's face to light up in victory, instantly rushing off to do whatever it was he'd planned to do.

Donatello went back to studying the map; trying to find an area that fit the environment they currently found themselves in. It truly was like searching for a needle in a haystack, especially when the old map couldn't be trusted.

"You know," Leonardo suddenly interrupted, looking up from his leaned back position in the sun. "This could probably take a while, and I have to admit I'm getting kind of hungry."

"Your point being?" Don wondered.

"I was just thinking maybe we could have lunch." Leo proposed. "I mean, I know we didn't bring anything, what with assuming we'd all be home by now, but maybe Mikey's still got something edible in that bottomless backpack of his."

"Oh, _I_ see," Mike took a break from carving something onto a tree and turned to face his blue-masked brother. "Now that we're all out of fish it's suddenly OK to eat my snacks. What happened to living off of nature, Leo? I thought that was like one of the hiker's ten sacred commandments or something."

"You don't have anything left, do you," Leo concluded.

"Nope," Mike confirmed with a grin. "Ate every last crumb."

"Figures," Raph muttered, angrily leaning back against the tree. The thought of food had really brightened his miserable existence there for a moment, even if it only was Mikey's crushed bag of chips.

With the option of food completely out the window, everybody went on with their bored business, and it was then that Raph noticed what Mikey had needed his knife for. "Hey," he called at him, causing him to turn around with the knife still clutched in his hand. "Juz what do ya think yer doin' with my knife?"

"Err... carving?" Mike replied, thinking it was quite obvious.

"Yeah, I noticed, genius. Thanks," Raph dryly commented. "What I wanna know is _what _yer carving, because I swear I'll kick yer ass if it's somethin' stupid like 'Mikey rules'."

"Nope," Mikey said, confidently shaking his head.

"Same goes fer 'Mikey was here'," Raph added.

"Geeze, Raph," Michelangelo shook his head. "Give me some credit, will ya? I've got more originality than that in my boogers!"

"Then what is it?" Raphael suspiciously wondered, crossing his arms.

But Mike only turned back to keep working on his artistic masterpiece. "You'll see when I'm done."

"If I find anythin' about me on that tree, I'll kick yer ass _so_ hard ye won't even be able ta remember what it felt like havin' one," Raph added.

"Not even close, bro," Mike said. "In fact, you're so far off base I could just laugh at your cluelessness."

Raph gave him one of his trademark threatening stares, and it was all that was needed for Mike to add in petrified panic: "But I won't."

* * *

Breaking her apathetic stare from the hypnotizing pattern of the chessboard, April looked up at the giant rat sitting opposite her, having been locked in the very same position for about… seven minutes, she concluded when glancing at the clock that hung above the kitchen door. 

It was getting close to dinnertime, and the boys still hadn't returned. It should have bothered her, and it probably would have if it wasn't for the fact that her ability to care had somehow abandoned her where she sat, staring at the board and waiting for the quiet, old – albeit wise – but painfully slow rat to make his painfully anticipated move.

They had done nothing else during the guys' absence but played the few board games Raph had dug out while helping her go through the downstairs closet right before they left. She'd thought it was a good idea to keep time moving, and the conversation flowing, because apart from the turtles, there wasn't really that much the rat and the reporter had in common.

But her plan had tragically backfired, where the furry ninja master tuned out everything else to be able to focus his all on the game. And thus they had been sitting in the kitchen for days, only speaking to each other while eating, and even then all Splinter wanted to do was to look back on the four hour game of backgammon, chess or even go fish, and obsessively analyze every single little detail that had led to his or her downfall.

Dusting off those old games was a dumb move on her part; she knew that know. She had noticed Raph giving her a sly grin when she'd asked for him to take them down from their shelf, as if he knew something she didn't, but she hadn't really cared. Raphael was all about grins, whether they were sly, sarcastic or even mischievous.

But next time, she swore silently to herself, she'd know better. Next time he'd give her a grin like that, she wouldn't be able to shrug it off, because her stomach would freeze up like a giant block of ice at the memory of these last few craaawling days.

Yes, she had definitely learned from her mistake.

But wait! She lit up in excitement as he slowly lifted his right hand from the table, where a print of sweat was left, baring the shape of his palm. This was it. He was finally making his move. No longer would she have to suffer in this torturous time loop she'd somehow been caught in.

She watched in joyful anticipation as Splinter absentmindedly lifted his hand to lightly hover above the board, and then up to his face, where he casually itched the right side of his nose, completely unaware of her intense stare. Then she watched him – just as casually – lower his hand to rest it on the _exact_ same spot on the table he'd kept it throughout the entire game.

But there was still hope inside April. She had seen the light, and she refused to believe it would go out that quickly. Her eyes lingered expectantly on her rival, and she didn't even dare herself to blink, as if the act would somehow kill any possible chance that he'd ever move again.

And then he did.

He looked up from the board, meeting her wide eyes with a puzzled stare, causing April to lean forward in excitement, wanting to physically _pull_ the move out of him. It was so close. She could almost picture it in front of her, how he'd grab a hold of one of his players, pull it dramatically across the board and finally leave the ball on her court. At least then she would have something to do for the upcoming minute or so.

Completely unaware of her hopeful thoughts, Splinter then broke their swift eye contact, twitching one of his whiskers in awkwardness and quickly resumed to stare at the board.

April sunk back in her chair. The spell was broken, the moment was gone, and there was no telling how long it would be until the next one would come along.

She tiredly turned to stare at the clock again, sinking even further into her seat.

It had been four more minutes.

* * *

Raphael caught himself nodding off and quickly adjusted himself into a more upright position to keep it from happening again. He was tired, cold and feverish, and there was just no way in hell he'd sleep against this tree. His back ached far too much from what he suspected was a combination of the fever and sleeping on the ground for too long. He wanted to go home. He missed the moth-eaten mattress April had dragged out on the floor for him in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He missed it something so terribly, and if it was the last thing he did in this life he _would_ rest his tired self on his soft friend again. He looked around for his brothers, and found them all doing what they'd been doing all along. 

Leonardo still sat leaned back on the rock, his eyes closed as he faced the warming rays of the evening sun. Mikey was still busy carving his dumbassness into the trunk of that tree, his tongue sticking out of his mouth because of his fierce, uncharacteristic concentration. And Donnie? Donatello sat in the grass, his legs folded in the lotus position and the map still clutched obsessively in his hand. His right hand pinched the bridge of his beak, and he was looking as though he was trying to burn a whole in the partly unfolded map with his stare. For all Raph knew, given enough time, he could very well succeed.

"A'right," Raph said, grunting in discomfort as he rose to his feet, the feverish aching of the muscles in his back protesting in pain. "That's it. I'm done. No more sittin' around 'ere waitin' for a miracle ta strike."

Donatello looked up in surprise, about to say something when Raphael suddenly stomped up to him and snatched the map out of his hands.

"Wha... wait--"

But Raph only held up a hand to silence his brother as he looked over the map. "Be quiet, Indoor Boy."

Leo and Don exchanged baffled looks with each other, until Don finally managed to utter, "Did you just... Did he just call me... _Indoor _Boy?"

But Raphael didn't even bother to give him one of his famous 'Do I look like I wanna repeat myself?' looks, he merely gazed at the map for a few more silent seconds until he suddenly crumbled it up into a paper ball and threw it over his shoulder. Both Don and Leo dramatically screamed out in panic as they threw themselves after the now ruined map, arms stretched out to catch it before it landed in the wet grass. They both missed it by a good yard, but it wasn't as if it mattered to the map, for it was ruined either way.

Even so, Leo scrambled to his feet and snatched the ball of paper off the ground, frenetically unfolding it and trying to smoothen out the many wrinkles on its ruined surface. "What the hell, Raph!"

"Yeah," Donatello quickly filled in. "What's your problem? Do you want us to _die_ out here?"

It was cue for another one of Raph's famous looks, this time the good ol' 'Please. Spare me the dramatics.'

"Seriously, Raph," Leonardo sternly insisted. "What were you thinking? We're lost enough as it as without you crumbling up our only chance of ever sleeping off the ground again."

Raphael, meanwhile, ignored his two brothers and proceeded to put on his backpack. After gazing upwards at the presently sunny sky under the protection of his outstretched palm, he set off in a different direction than the one Leo had them walking in.

"Where are you going?" Leonardo called after him in confusion. "Raph?"

"Home," was Raphael's short reply, and upon walking past Mikey where he still sat by the tree, he stopped, looked and demanded his knife back. Then, once Mikey had placed the army knife in his open hand, Raph casually slapped his younger brother on the back of his head, and continued on his mysterious path.

"Is he... is he walking out on us?" the oldest brother asked, turning to Donatello, who only shrugged in return. It _had _happened before, so it wouldn't be much of a surprise to them if that was the case.

"Yer free ta come with, ya know," Raph called back to them, not even bothering to turn around.

Michelangelo was quickly up on his feet, backpack strapped on, and hurried to catch up with his brother... but Don and Leo hesitated.

If they couldn't find their way home, what would make Raph think _he_ could do it? Sadly, they didn't seem to have any better option at the time, so the two brothers set off after the red masked hiker, Leo still trying to smooth down the creases on their traitorous map.

As they reached up to the tree Mikey had worked on with the help of Raph's knife, and in result earned a slap from said turtle, they stopped to read the words carved into the bark.

_In Memory of Mr. Gaffy  
Beloved Giraffe, Wisecracker  
& Friend_

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you know what you're doing?" Leonardo called up to his brother, when carefully stepping over another of the many roots on his blind path through the woods. They had been walking in silence for about twenty minutes, and up until now no one had dared question Raph's plan. 

"Yer free ta come up with yer own brilliant solution," came Raphael's answer.

Leo frowned and exchanged looks with an amused looking Donatello. "Well, it's just..." He wasn't sure how to phrase his question, without it sounding like an insult to his brother. "Without a map and all, how can you be sure where we're going?"

"You'd rather keep followin' that outdated map, be my guest, bro," said Raph nonchalantly.

"No, I mean..." Leo struggled to find the right words.

Suddenly, Raph stopped, his back still turned to his brothers. Mikey quickly got up to stand beside him, followed by Leonardo and Donatello, but none of them had a clue as to _why_ they had stopped.

"See that down there?" Raph finally broke the silence in a tone that held obvious pride, pointing ahead of them with an open hand.

All they could see below the hill upon which they were standing was the lake, and although it was quite beautiful the way the sun's rays glittered across the surface of the water, it wasn't something they hadn't seen before - especially during these past few days.

"Look, Simba," Michelangelo spoke dramatically. "Everything the light touches is our kingdom."

"No, you idiot!" Raph angrily shoved an elbow into his orange masked brother's side. "I'm talkin' about the lake!"

"Real impressive, Raph," Leo chimed in. "But I thought you said we were going home."

"We _are_ goin' home," Raph turned to Leonardo with a look that spoke of amusement that had gone MIA. "All we need ta do is ta follow the lake. Civilization is always built near water."

"The farm isn't," Don smartly pointed out. "Took us several hours to reach the lake the first day, remember?"

"Yeah, but once we reach civilization, it'll be easier ta find our way," Raphael explained.

"Well, it's not like we can hitchhike our way back home," Leo said.

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "I mean, I know people up here are friendly and all, but if they saw the four of us walking on the side of the road, they'd report an alien invasion or something. I'd hate to have a bunch of UFO fanatics tracking us down in the woods tonight; I've had a hard enough time sleeping as it is."

"We're _not_ gonna advertise ourselves by the side of the road, Mike," Raph growled. "But at least we won't be totally blindsided by all these goddamned trees," he finished, angrily waving his arms at the forest that was holding them prisoners.

"That's a good point," Donatello nodded. "At least it's a step in the right direction."

"Exactly," Raph said. "Now let's get a move on before it gets dark." Following the direction of the lake, he set off to find his way out of the forest, and even though his brothers weren't entirely convinced, they followed his lead, Leo still fiddling with the ruined map.

* * *

The four hikers stood silent in the clearing. It was getting dark, but the house up ahead kept things quite visible with the light coming from its many windows. 

"Great, Raph," Leonardo commented bitterly. "Your brilliant plan led us to one of April's neighbors. So, the farmhouse is only... what, about fifteen miles away?"

"I got us out of the woods, didn't I?" Raph spat in defense.

"Technically, we're still _in_ the woods," Donatello corrected, motioning to the many trees that protected them from April's neighbor's vision.

"Shut up, Donnie," was Raphael's reply.

"Well, to be fair, Raph," Michelangelo began hesitantly, "it's not like we can knock on the door and ask to use the phone. And that does look like our sun setting behind the house," he added, pointing to the beautiful spectacle disappearing behind the roof of the red painted house. "Looks like we'll be rolling out those sleeping bags one more night, bros," he concluded, patting a pissed off Raph on the shoulder.

"Not necessarily," Donatello added with a thoughtful expression.

"What do ya mean, Donnie?" Mikey asked curiously. "You having an idea? Because I think I saw I light bulb hovering over your head there for a sec."

"Well, you remember April gossiping about her neighbors up here, right?" he said, earning clueless nods from all of his brothers. "I recall several stories about some blind old woman living up here by herself."

"Blind Betty!" Mike exclaimed in excitement. "I _love_ those stories! They always remind me of Mr. Magoo."

"Anyway, if this is her place, then we actually _could_ ask to use the phone," Don finished explaining.

"...Because of the old lady being blind!" Mikey exclaimed.

"Great pointin' out the obvious there, Mike," Raph commented while rolling his eyes.

"Well," Leonardo began. "How do we know for sure this is her house? Could be any of her neighbors."

"Not that many neighbors up here, Leo," Raph pointed out.

"True," the blue-masked turtle nodded. "But I remember stories about another neighbor of hers. And as far as I know, Crazy Ass Phil is neither blind nor is he nice. I just don't see him inviting us inside to use his phone."

"Yeah, I remember those stories, too," Mike nodded with a frightened look. "Huuuw," he felt a shiver run down his spine. "April's tales of Crazy Ass Phil always gives me crazy ass nightmares."

"Right," Leo nodded with a slightly weirded out look. "So we can't afford knocking on the wrong door here."

"Basically," Donatello began, "what we need is proof that this truly _is_ the residence of Blind Betty."

"And just how are we gonna find proof?" the ever so skeptical Raph asked.

"We'll just have to remember things from April's stories," Leo said.

"Ooh!" Mikey lit up with an expression that spelled 'Eureka!' "I remember one about April and her brother accidentally breaking Blind Betty's porch swing when they were kids!"

"So?" Raph wondered with an unimpressed look.

"Well, duuh! Raph, Blind Betty's got a porch swing! Man, you really need things spelled out for ya, don't you?" Michelangelo laughed.

"Mike, _everyone_ up here's got a porch swing," Donnie smartly pointed out.

"Oh..."

Once again, the brothers fell silent, all of them trying to look back on April's gossip and remember something useful from it. After a few seconds of silent, however, Leo was the one to speak up.

"What about the cats?" he asked. "Blind Betty has cats, right?"

"Oh yeah!" Mike remembered with a smile. "Blind Betty's got _tons_ of cats! Remember how April's always complaining about how Betty's house reeks of kitty pee?"

"Right. So go check for cats, then," Raphael concluded.

"Wait..." Leonardo froze an excited Mike in mid-sprinting position. "Didn't Crazy Ass Phil have a dog, though?"

"That's true, he did," Donatello nodded. "He had this giant guard dog. This crossbreed between rottweiler and… wolf, was it?"

"I think it was warewolf, actually," Raph joked with a chuckle. "Even _I_ remember the stories of that psychotic pet. Killing squirrels for kicks..."

"Right," Leo confirmed. "So, either we find cats or a rabid dog. Any volunteers?"

"I think we should all go together," a not so brave looking Michelangelo suggested.

"Actually, we have to keep a low profile," Donnie reminded them. "We could easily be spotted if we sent out an entire search party, so it would probably be best if only one of us went."

"Any volunteers?" Leonardo asked a second time, no one wanting to step up for the job.

"We could draw straws," Don suggested. "That would be the most fair, I think."

"No way!" Mikey protested. "I always lose when we do that. No _way_ am I pulling straws. Nuh-uh."

"Well, if that truly is the case," Donnie said, "then the odds should be in your favor."

"What do you mean 'odds'?" Mike asked as Don bent forward to pick up four straws.

"It's like when you roll a dice," Donatello explained as he counted the straws in his hands. "You only get the same result a certain number of times."

"For real?" Mikey asked, not looking entirely convinced.

"It's math," Donatello stated simply as he fiddled with the straws behind his back. "I seriously don't think you'll end up with the short straw, Mikey."

"All right..." Mike nodded in agreement. "But then I get to pick first."

"Of course," Don said, holding out the seemingly identical straws for his brother to choose one.

Mike reached out hesitantly, but just as he was about to pick one he drew back his hand. "But what if it's just bad luck? What if I'm like... cursed?"

"I don't believe in luck," said Don confidently, moving the straws closer for his little brother to pick one.

There was still doubt visible in Michelangelo's eyes, but he swallowed it bravely and snatched himself a grass straw.

* * *

"I _knew_ there was a reason I hated math," Michelangelo muttered to himself as he took off his backpack and set it down in the still wet grass. 

"Well, those stories of April's _are_ pretty old," Leo offered to his seemingly cursed brother. "Maybe the rabid dog died years ago?"

"Yeah," Raphael nodded. "And maybe he got two new ones ta replace it? Ones that are even bigger and crazier than that werewolf!"

"Shut up, Raph!" Don and Leo said in unison, only earning a devilish snicker from their red-masked brother.

"Well..." Mike shakily let out a long breath, as if to stall the inevitable. "If I don't make it back..." he trailed off, knowing that if these were his last words, it was important to choose them wisely.

"Promise you'll bury me next to Mr. Gaffy."

* * *

Watching a seemingly frozen Splinter stare at the chessboard as he pondered on his few options, April felt like banging her head on the surface of the table until she fell unconscious. She just couldn't stand this never-ending game of chess. If she didn't do something now, she knew the remains of her mind would slowly slip into insanity, where all the land was painted chess-checkered and people only moved in precise patterns... if moving at all, that is 

It was dark now, she noticed as she stared out the kitchen window, her eyes so dead, one could easily mistake her for a ghost. But there was no one around to see her, no one around to worry about the soulless cripple she had turned into.

Well, except for Splinter, of course. But he was unreachable. The old rat wasn't aware of anything but the board in front of him. April could have performed a sex change operation on him without even coming close to breaking his concentration on the game.

Her mind began to wander at the thought of the wise ninja master having a sex change. He wouldn't make for a very attractive woman. He'd have to trim his fur... and those neglected nails of his needed to be taken care of. Not to mention that the gray goatee would be a dead giveaway of the balls that once were...

Suddenly, the phone ringing interrupted her thoughts. April shook her head, as if she'd been asleep, and once getting up to answer, she realized with a frown that her legs most certainly were. She staggered across the room in near panic, fearing she wouldn't reach the phone in time. She did not want to be abandoned in the chess game again. Anything but that!

Finally, she curled her fingers around the phone and lifted it off the wall, slamming it to her ear in sheer excitement.

She was saved!

"Hello?"

"April...? Oh MAN am I glad to hear your voice!" came Michelangelo's relieved response on the other line. "You won't _believe_ where I'm calling from!"

"I don't care," April rambled quickly, almost fanatically. "Just give me an address and I'll come pick you up!"

**The End**


End file.
